Lost and Found
by NothingPuck
Summary: Dean has had to live with an abusive father for fourteen long years; ever since his mom died. But on the evening of his eighteenth birthday, he has had enough. He has to run away. Him and his fourteen-year-old brother, with a disability, have to escape their home. They meet a police officer who will change their lives forever. AU, rated M for language, violence and sex. Destiel.
1. What About Sam?

It was January 24th , 2001. My 18th birthday.  
It was the day I'd had enough.

Enough of my father coming home, too drunk to remember how he even got there. Too shit-faced to even know I was his damn son. Too wasted to know that you aren't supposed to beat your son.

He used to be a happy drunk. A goofy, buzzed, type-guy who only drank excessively on the holidays spent with the in-laws. But even then he'd just pass out on the couch, stuffed with ham and mashed potatoes.

I remember that much. My mom curling up in his lap and listening to his quiet snoring, asking him to wake up. We would be heading home. He would smile and kiss her lazily… say something cheesy I'd never hear, and she'd blush and they'd walk hand in hand to the car.

But nothing was ever the same after my mom died. There was a car accident. Dad was driving. He killed my mom, and crippled my little brother, Sammy. The two of us were unscathed.

Probably because it was late…

He was too busy watching her to even bother with the road. Too damn in love.

And it fucking killed her.

The light turned yellow as we steadily moved toward it. I was too young to know what to do. Only four years old and to this day he'll ask me why I didn't say something. I have no answer. It would only make him angrier to respond.

The light turned red.

The other car didn't stop.

It came in from the right, crushing Sammy beneath the door and popping my mother like a cork.

It all happened so fast.

But not fast enough. I'll never forget the look on her face as she died. My father's screaming.

I'll never forget.

Fourteen long years later, and John, my father, never forgot. Never forgave himself, or anyone else he could throw the blame on.

Except Sam. He never blamed Sam. He was only a baby, and he looks just like her, with my dad's eyes. Or, what they used to look like.

Now they're dead. Curious hazel oceans, turned to ashes.

Sam is the smartest kid I know. He's only fourteen and he was the only reason I ever stayed.

He lost all use of his right arm in the crash. It should've been ultimately amputated when it happened, but we couldn't afford it. So to this day he has a useless arm in a knotted sleeve mechanism I made for him.

It kept his arm from slipping out. Mostly because people asked him about it and he didn't like the attention.

But on my eighteenth birthday that year, dad had never come home from the other night. It wasn't unusual, to say the least. And I couldn't say I didn't expect it.

But somehow it still hurt.

I woke up and made Sam's breakfast. A cheese and ham omelet, ham a bit overdue its expiration date, but we had to make do. And some toast.

I was slathering the pan with butter when Sammy came down the steps, yawning.

"Morning, Sam." I said, giving him a thoughtful glance as he grinned at me, knowingly.

"Morning, Dean." He bounced down the last two steps and ran into my stomach, wrapping his good arm around me. "Happy birthday big bro." He chided and I patted his head soothingly.

"Aw, thanks, Sammy." I said as he pulled away and sat down. He gently used his left arm to rest his dead arm onto the table. It laid there awkwardly, as it always did, but I was used to it.

"Dad come in last night?" Sam asked, looking at the floor as I cracked a few eggs.

I clenched my jaw and answered tersely. "No," I flipped the eggs and sprinkled in lunchmeat cheese and ham.

Sam got up and got some orange juice, and began reading the newspaper set on the table. I used some extra money I got from my job at the auto repair shop to pay for the subscription to the newspaper for Sam.

He didn't know it, but I liked it that way.

We ate breakfast and got ready for school. I helped Sam with his shirt and tussled his hair with a promise, "Dad should be home tonight."

Not that it was technically a good thing…Because god knows I wished he'd never come back. But I could see in Sam's eyes, he didn't know that Dad, the John Winchester from fourteen years ago, was dead. Long, long dead.

I walked Sam to school. He was only in 8th grade and I was a senior. So he went to the Middle School and I went to the High School. We said our goodbyes, and just before we parted Sam stopped me and said,

"Dean! I almost forgot!" And he reached into his pocket and gave me a small package, wrapped in the same newspaper I secretly bought for him.

I grinned like an idiot and hugged him again. "Thanks Sam. You didn't have to get me anything." I said, but we both knew it wasn't true.

Every year we always got each other something, no matter what the other said. And if one didn't, we should probably be worried.

I put it in my pocket and told him I'd open it later.

"Okay, pick you up after school."

"Okay, bye."

I got to first period as the bell rang.

My teacher gave me a look but said nothing.

I tried my best to pay attention, I truly did, but it was hard.

I couldn't stop thinking about what I was going to do when I saw my dad stumble in, drunk off his ass that night.

Was I going to mention my birthday? Mention Sam?

Would I just stay quiet and take it?

"Can you tell us why you think Romeo and Juliet decided to run away, Dean?" My teacher prompted me.

But that was it. I knew the answer.

I had to run away.

School was a blur, I was too busy planning and plotting and stressing the fuck out.

I needed to get out. And at 18, I could.

I had everything I needed. I could survive a whole year on the money I'd saved and have enough to keep getting Sammy's papers.

I stopped. But Sam.

What was going to happen to Sam if I left? Would John use him as a punching bag instead of me? My fists clenched at the thought.

What about Sam?

I couldn't leave him alone. My heart raced. But I needed out.

I needed out asap, and Sam was holding me back.

No. He's your brother, Dean. You gotta look out for him.

I cringed and skipped my last class of the day.

I walked slowly to pick up Sam from school that afternoon.

Guilt tainted my conscience and I could barely look at my brother without wanting to punch myself.

I was being so selfish. I couldn't leave Sam, and I couldn't ask him to come with me. He needed a house and a place to sleep that wasn't a sketchy apartment on the bad side of town.

I didn't even look at him as we walked home together.

He talked about his day, and I nodded along with his continuous thoughts.

He didn't stop talking about all his friends and the stuff he learned and the new books they got all the way home.

But as I unlocked the door, so dazed I failed to notice the car in the driveway, I bit my tongue and watched Sam race into the house to greet our father.

He sat at the kitchen table, bags under his eyes and a beer in his palm.

"Dad." Sam said, climbing into his lap, ignoring the stench of alcohol in his beard.

"Sam, get off." Dad snapped, scowling at Sam. Sam cautiously backed away, looking like a kicked puppy.

My eyes narrowed and I le tout a growl of words. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Excuse you?" He slurred, standing up so unevenly he knocked the kitchen chair over.

Sam cowered away to the fridge, backing up against it.

"Where have you been?" I snapped.

"Out."

"Yeah well that's just great. Leave your kids to fend for themselves."

"Watch your fucking mouth, kid." The floor groaned as John took a step further.

"No." I breathed. "No, I'm not your kid. I'm 18 now, and I'm…" I paused watching his face contort in anger "I'm leaving, and I'm taking Sammy with me."

He snarled in my face, and swung his fist. "You are not!" He argued.

He was groggy and slow, I dodged his fist with ease. I ducked under his arms again, and swooped Sam up into my arms, racing up the stairs and locking us in out joined bedroom.

"Sammy…Sam we gotta leave." I panted, locking the door.

John roared his way up the stairs. "You little shit get down here!"

"Dean…" Sam whimpered.

"We're leaving." I repeated firmly. "Now pack a bag and let's go!"

Sam just shrugged his bag from his shoulders and began throwing things into it. Clothes, deodorant, the stuffed moose I got him for his 5th birthday.

I packed as much as I could, including Sam's baby blanket and my mom's necklace.

Dad was pounding furiously on the door, demanding it unlocked.

"Dean what about food… money?" Sam asked, still half in shock, but I could hear the relief in his voice.

Sam knew our dad was a drunken ass. He'd seen my bruises. Not all of them. Only the ones I let him. Which wasn't very many.

Sam knew all along how we needed to get out.

But I took him for naive.

"Dean you open this fucking door!" John barked, kicking the door, now.

My heart pounded in my chest, and I asked Sam if he had everything.

He nodded uncertainly, and I looked to the window.

"Can you make it?" I asked, gripping his shoulder for assurance. Although, I don't know if it was to comfort him or myself more.

"Yes." He sighed, looking at me with tears coming to those bright hazel eyes.

"Dean I'm so sorry." He whimpered as I crooked open the window and shoved our bags out first.

The sound of our father's drunken fit filled the entire house, maybe even the whole block.

But I still could hear the sincerity in his voice.

"Sammy it's okay." I told him and helped him onto the sill.

"I got it." He said, sliding down onto the awning below and jumping the safe height of about 8 feet, from there. He landed and grabbed our bags in his arm, and jerked his head to get me to follow.

I had one leg out when the door finally buckled.

My heart dropped.

"YOU LITTLE SHIT." John screamed, running for me like a deranged bull.

I panicked and squirmed myself out the window.

It was too late.

He grabbed hold of my torso, holding just under my arms and squeezing with all his might.

I cried out in a rather embarrassing way. I could feel him crushing around me, pushing the breath form my lungs and bruising every inch of my ribs.

"You're gonna fucking pay for this shit." He snarled in my ear, the stench of alcohol filling my nose, my mouth, my shrinking lungs.

I felt like I was choking on it, and I felt nauseous all at the same time.

I let out a grunt of pure pain and surrender, going slack in his arms as I felt the fight drain from me.

"GET OFF." Sam screamed, from where he was now, right behind John, a vase crashed over his head.

And the pressure was gone. John went limp and I slid down the roof, watching with amazement at my cowardly little brother finally standing up for something.

Standing up for me.

He came down not long after, and we sat together on the side walk.

"Thanks Sammy." I whispered, and he just told me to shut up.

I looked at him disbelievingly, but the sheer anger in his eyes told me it all.

"Dean he was gonna kill you." It wasn't a question. Not like it should have been.

"Sam…"

"No, Dean." He held up his good hand to hold me back from continuing with more lies. "let's just go."

"Okay.." I agreed, standing up. I nearly doubled over with the immense pain all over my ribs. I could still feel his arms. Smell his stench all over my neck.

I placed my hand on Sam's shoulder for balance.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"I'm fine." I said, pulling my bag over my shoulders. "We have to just…we have to go before he wakes up." I said simply, looking back at the damned house and not really believing it was time to be free.

"Let's go, then." Said Sam.


	2. What Are You So Afraid Of? (Enter Cas)

It was nearly 4 o clock as Sam and I trudged down the road. I knew a place we could go for the night until I could set up more permanent housing.

It was a cheap motel down the road from my school. It was run by a man with no teeth and his four younger children. I think I remember someone telling me his wife had died under 'mysterious circumstances' a while back.

I grimaced at the thought, but we had no other choice.

"What if he finds us, Dean?" Sam asked, his voice so broken and weak. The way he sounded reflected exactly how I felt. But I couldn't let him see that.

I had to be strong for the both of us.

"He won't, Sammy." I wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe just because he used to be in the marines, it didn't matter. He had drowned away all his brain cells with the stinging booze.

But a huge part of me…knew he was still a clever, conniving son of a bitch.

For so long I tried to love him. Tried to tell myself, he was still my dad. He just drank too much. He lost too much too soon. It wasn't his fault.

But each day a new bruise appeared or each time I had to skip a meal to make sure Sam got enough food, my faith gradually faded.

He could have stopped. He could have pulled himself together. But instead he watched his son get a job at just thirteen to pay for the bills. The bills he ignored and instead bought another 30-pack.

"We're going to the Blue Bird Inn, okay Sam?" I said, and got a mediocre nod from my only sibling.

"Not much further."

We arrived at the dank 6-room motel by 4:22, I deduced, taking a glance at the gdingy clock hanging on the mustard-yellow paneling.

"One room please." I said to the 12-year-old boy at the counter. He had dark hair and even darker eyes. He nodded and pushed the clipboard toward me, with a key to room number 3.

I smiled politely, but his eyes were locked on Sam. Perhaps they knew each other at school, I mused.

But Sam just looked at the ground as I signed the sheet and handed over two twenties.

The kid looked at me as the key scuffled across the counter into my pulling fingers.

"Have a nice night." He said, those dark eyes unblinking. "Bye, Sam…" He said quietly as we began to depart.

"Bye.." Sam murmured.

"You know that kid?" I asked as we began inspecting our room. Two twin beds, a kitchenette with a microwave and mini-fridge, and a bathroom with a lime-stained shower.

"He's in my Algebra class." Sam said, unloading his things into a small bedside drawer.

I couldn't be bothered with the task. So instead, I decided to set my bag on the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed. "That's nice." I said, but my mind was elsewhere.

I thought about my job and where we would have to stay. I thought about Sam and how he would deal with all of this.

How could I take him away from home. Without even asking him..

"Dean?!" Sam's hands on my shoulders jerked me back to reality. I released a small pant of surprise at my own inability to stay focused.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" I asked, blinking away the images of our broken home and all the other choices I had but instead I chose to take my brother and run.

I needed to teach Sam bravery and this was how I was going to do it?

Some role model I was.

"I was just saying…" Sam paused, his eyes flickering all over my face, checking just to make sure I was listening this time. I nodded minutely. "that I think we should just call it a day." He finished.

I could only nod, too afraid if I opened my mouth, another person would begin talking. The Dean Winchester Sam could never meet. The Dean Winchester who was afraid.

Afraid of losing people and dying. Afraid of their father. Afraid of school and classwork. Afraid of growing up and being young.

This Dean Winchester could never be afraid.

To prove to myself we could do this, I got up and laid Sam in bed. I sat at the edge of it and talked to him about school and what it was like when we were little. Talked about movies and music and laughed because we could.

Until he fell asleep, consumed with the idea that we were going to be alright.

I only wished I felt the same.

The sun had faded into the horizon. Its bleary smudge of light only visible as a citrus line against the skyline.

I sighed and pulled the copy of Romeo and Juliet from my bag.

I read for a while, not particularly interested, but just enough to tease my preferences.

After the sun had been long gone, and the moon shone proudly gibbous in the navy sky, after my eyes began to droop and my hands began to cramp from clutching the book, came a knock.

"Mr. Winchester?" Came a gruff voice.

I blinked and placed the book pages-down on the motel quilt.

I got up and padded over to the door.

Unlocking it, with slight anxiety twisting my gut, I opened it.

On the other side stood a younger man, mid-twenties. He had dark hair and bright blue eyes that glimmered toxically in the dull light that flooded from our room.

He had strong features, a clear jaw and a flat, pointed nose. His eyes had several creases, but something about them fit.

But it wasn't what he looked like or who he was that made the blood drain from my face.

It wasn't those piercing eyes or the bruisingly straight line his mouth made that caused my heart to drop.

It was what he wore.

A blue uniform complete with a utility belt; gun, Taser, walkie-talkie, hand cuffs, and the bright gold badge on his lean chest.

"Hello, Dean." He said without a single blink.

"…Officer…" I stammered. "I…I…" I bit my lip and felt my hands tremble. What could I say?

He took quick note of my petrified appearance. He titled his head and squinted, but I couldn't tell if he was mocking or not when he asked, "What are you so afraid of?"


	3. Officer Castiel Novak

"I…I.." I choked on my own voice, unable to form any coherent thought, let alone a full sentence. Too floored by this police officer's presence to even think straight. What could I even say? 'Officer, I'm afraid that my father's going to kill me and abuse my little brother. I'm afraid you're going to arrest me. I'm afraid of airplanes and dying alone.' No I don't think he'd like that.

I trapped any further mumblings from coming out of my mouth, literally biting my tongue.

He frowned at me, as if he was weighing options in his head. While I chewed my tongue, he peeked into the room, taking note of Sam sleeping soundly inside. He nodded, once, twice. Very slowly.

He looked at me again. "Might I come in?" He asked, clasping his hands in front of him. I wish he wouldn't do that. I wish he'd be bad cop right now instead of polite-Mr.-I'll-be-your-friend cop. If he's going to ruin this he should at least do it without making me sympathize with him.

"Yes.." I breathed, stepping away from the door and sitting on my bed again. He closed the door and sat next to me.

"So I'm sure you know why I'm here." He said, looking straight at my face. His eyes holding mine, making me look right into the pits of his conscience. I felt like he knew something I didn't. and I wanted to throw up.

"…Look…you don't understand." I whispered, locking my fingers together to keep from pulling at my own hair. "We had to…please…we had to get out."

He titled his head once again, this time, he looked strained as he inquired, "How come?"

I thought about telling him, about spilling my guts and just actually getting to let out my feelings for once. But this man? This Police Officer who was going to take me back to my house, most likely in cuffs?

I couldn't tell him. "I can't tell you.." I whispered, dropping his gaze and looking straight at the floor.

He frowned again, looking toward Sammy instead and waiting a few moment before speaking again. "Dean." He said.

I lifted my head in response, looking soddenly at him.

"That is your name?" He asked with slight smile.

"Yes." I blinked, closing my hands between my kneecaps.

"And that is your little brother, Sam?"

"It is."

He held out his hand then, a large, strong hand, with blended callouses and thick knuckles, like a carpenter's hands. I scrambled to shake it, struggling to send directions to my hands, they didn't want to cooperate.

I tried to unclasp them while they were between my knees and twisted my own thumb back in the process.

But what seemed like a full minute of embarrassment was realistically only about 2 seconds.

I jerked my hand to his, and we shook. He had a firm grasp and a strong arm.

"My name is Officer Castiel Novak." He stated, offering up a small smile.

I returned it chastely. "Nice to meet you.." I lied.

"Would you mind telling me a bit about yourself?" He asked, crossing his legs and pivoting in my direction, just by a few degrees.

I blinked, unsure if I heard him correctly. "M-me?" I questioned, eyes widening in shock.

He chuckled, "Yes, Dean. Please tell me about you and your brother."

So I did. I told him all about Sam, all about his great grades and how he never let his disability slow him down. How he was a great kid, never caused any trouble. I went on as much as I could, watching Officer Novak nod along, taking mental notes and looking to Sam every so often.

After I had found nothing else interesting to say I just kind of shrugged and stayed quiet.

"Yes, he seems like a great kid." Novak genuinely sounded impressed.

"He is." I confirmed.

"But what about you, Dean?"

"What do you mean?"

"You never said anything about who you are. What you like to do." He smiled, amused at my ability to forget about myself when it came to Sam.

"Oh." I felt myself blush at my mistake. I was so stupid sometimes. "Well…I work at Singer Auto…down the road form here."

"Do you really?" He asked, sitting up from the slight crouch he had fell into. "The Police Force gets work done on our vehicles there. They're very reliable." He added, smiling.

"Oh wow…" I said, feeling pride swell up. Bobby, the shop's owner, would love to hear that. "Thank you." I gushed.

"So what do you do when you're not at school or working?" He asked, uncrossing his legs, and then re-crossing them the opposite way.

My stomach knotted up at that question. The tension that had ebbed away from my muscles found it's way back.

"Oh…" I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. "I just…"

"You…take care of your brother." It should have been a question. Fuck me, it needed to be a question. He couldn't know that much. He'd want to know more. Why do you take care of Sam? What's wrong with your father. He couldn't find out. Nobody could dig that deep and expect to come out alive.

No one could come inside my world and see me for who I truly was. I couldn't allow it.

But…I don't know what happened, maybe I just lost all the fight in me.

"Yes." I breathed, feeling his next question right in the core of my being. Feel it before he even said it.

It made me want to vomit and simply cry. The brave Dean Winchester and the afraid Dean Winchester fought in my head.  
Don't tell him anything more than he needs to know.

But we can't keep living like this.  
He'll lock you up and God knows what will happen to Sam.

He'll lock John up and we'll be free!  
We'll never be free.

My head was bowed, but my eyes lifted up to look at the officer. He was going to speak the single word that could send all the bricks in my little wall, crashing down.

He exhaled, eyes full of sympathy that made my chest physically hurt. He cared, he had to. Maybe it wasn't his job to care but it was his job to lock up abusive parents, wasn't it?

Then he opened his mouth, just enough to let the word ghost out.

"Why?"


	4. Smiles to Go

"My dad isn't around much." I shrugged, trying desperately to look indifferent. If I looked like I didn't care, maybe he'd take a hint and let it go.

"And why is that?" It wasn't working.

"Dunno." I deceived. Or at least tried to.

"Dean..." Came the soft, rasping voice of this stranger. He reached forward ever-so gently and placed his hand on my thigh, patting it reassuringly.

I bit my lip. Not because I didn't want to speak, but because his hand was currently opening a recent wound.

John had come after me with a kitchen knife, late in the night about a week ago.

I had only been in my underwear when I came down. I told him to go to bed. He was having none of it.

He made a fuss as I tried to haul him up the steps, lifting him from under his arms. He hollered and kicked. He picked up a dirty knife from the table and slashed out at me, aiming for my stomach.

I jumped back but he fell forward with me, slicing open my thigh and hip in the process.

It left a long, diagonal laceration across the flesh. It wasn't too deep. But it sure as hell stung.

"What's wrong?" He coaxed, patting his hand one last time. And I could feel the wound release. The puss and blood unraveling made my leg feel wet. The wound was just starting to scab and he had unintentionally peeled it apart.

The thin bandage round my leg couldn't control the wetness spreading, warm and cold at the same time, through my pants.

"Please…just let us go." I whimpered, locking eyes with him and holding his gaze, because dear god don't let him look at the small spots of blood seeping through the denim.

"Why should I if you aren't being honest with me, Dean?" He asked, and every time he said my name it only made it worse.

"You want me to be honest with you?" I urged, and although my tone would have been offensive to anyone else, this man just nodded, that slow, sure nod.

"Of course."

"Yeah, well you ever had someone else's life in your hands? You ever have to watch them grow up this terrible life and you can't do a fucking thing about it? You ever have to starve yourself just so your little brother gets a good meal in him? You ever taken a bea-…"

Cas squinted then, his eyes glazed over with a wet sadness.

"Your father beats you?" He asked, reaching out and touching my leg again. But I could tell…by the way he looked at it, not surprised nor horrified… The blood touched his fingers and he just clenched his hand into a tight fist, recoiling.

He knew all along. He wasn't dumb and he wasn't naïve.

"What do you care?" I hissed, feeling tears come to my eyes.

The problem was, he's the first person to ever show me any kind of attention for what's happened to me in my life.

He's the first person to ever reach out and touch me and not either freak out or ignore it.

I choked out a curse and threw my head into my hands, sobbing emptily in my lap.

His arms were around me then, grasping my ribs just like John, I whimpered and flinched before I realized it was different.

His hands were warm and soothing.

They caressed my back and almost shushed the pain, if not, making it flare up but sizzle right back down into his palms.

"I won't take you back there." He said firmly, the pure rage eminent in his voice, wracked with authority.

I sniffed, wedged between embarrassed and relieved. "Why?" I asked, not sure if I want to hug him or apologize for losing my self-control like this. But I continued to weep, unable to stop at this point.

The heavy tears rolled down my face, where they hadn't in years. Especially not like this. Not in front of anyone else. Ever.

"Your father's supposed to guide you." He spat, curling around me like a shell. I had to admit it wasn't very appropriate but I think I'd be much worse off if he wasn't holding me.

"He's supposed to teach you how to grow up, be good." He added, clenching his fists in my t-shirt.

"He's supposed to protect his kids." He snarled and I very slowly sat up, looking at his face, where a single tear fell from his cheek.

I would have missed it completely if I'd just have waited to rise, just another second.

He pretended it wasn't there. So I said nothing.

"Yeah…well he doesn't." I said, wiping my face with the backs of my hands.

"Wait." He said quietly, digging into his pocket and handing me a rumpled handkerchief.

I laughed. A strangled, weak laugh. "They still make these?"

"I don't think they do." He smiled with a sheepish chuckle "But…it was my fathers." He said and then his face contorted into one of apprehension. He looked as if he were walking on eggshells.

And he was, to be honest. But he couldn't have known, unless I told him; how it made me feel. Hearing about other people's dads. Real dads.

"What are you going to do?" I asked after a moment, ringing the hankie in my white-knuckled fists.

He pursed his lips and sighed. "Honestly…I.." He paused.

"…whatever you decide.." I whispered, now placing my hand in his lap, gently touching his thigh, patting. "thank you, Castiel."

He smiled candidly, and that was the first glimpse I got into that beautiful thing that was Castiel's smile.

The way his teeth glittered in appreciation for what I said. Wet and smooth, recently brushed. The way his plump lips pulled up just enough that you saw half a millimeter of his top gums. The way his eyes crinkled up at the corners.

The way his eyes danced as glee ran throughout him.

I took in a breath, and held it until he let his mouth fall gently back over his teeth. Let his face relax, but his eyes still sparkled.

"I think I have an idea." He declared, eyes flashing in passing headlights. The shone bright and he let a different smile grace his features.

"Please, do tell?" I persuaded, neatly folding the handkerchief, and handing it back.

I expected him to do the comical, take it between two fingers, hold it as far away as possible, and tell me to keep it.

But he simply pocketed it without a seconds glance.

He shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. "You'll think I'm crazy."

"…no…anything…if you're going to help us…we have to take it." I stammered, suddenly feeling equally as apprehensive.

I mean, he was a police officer. But that didn't mean he wasn't corrupt.

It also didn't mean he wasn't really friends with my old man and just doing this to get information from me.

The thought made my stomach churn, and I couldn't shake the idea of him stealing us back to my house and turning me in.

"Your father drove himself to the police station…" Officer Novak began.

I could see where that could be a problem.

"I could write him up for a DUI." He continued, "That would be his third offense." Castiel raised his eyebrows and grinned.

I suddenly couldn't see him trapping me and Sam. Why would he? He hadn't given me any reason not to trust him.

But at the same time I just couldn't find myself throwing all my eggs in his basket.

I had to have a contingency plan, right?

I did. The Monroe apartments. 500 a month for one bedroom. Sam and I could share, or I could take the couch, if there was one.

"Look, Dean.." He broke the silence again, pulling me in with those blue abysses. "I… I know what it's like." His voice cracked as he gently pulled up his sleeve, revealing fat, ugly scars, round and bright pink against his pale complexion. They were burns. From cigars.

I felt my heart drop to my feet. This explained a lot.

"Oh…" I breathed, holding my own wrists in sympathy.

"How does he hurt you..?" He inquired, taking a step forward, his warm breath trapping the words in my throat. He stood an inch taller than me, but I had a feeling I was shortly going to outgrow him.

"You can tell me." He cooed, his gruff voice soft and caring.

"Maybe another time." I choked, turning around and wrapping my arms around myself, not able to even think about it. Not able to fathom, in reality what my father had done to me in the past fourteen years.

I could tell he was wringing his hands, nervous and not sure what else to say.

"Dean…let me help you." He finally begged, his voice pleading.

"How?" I spat out, and instantly turning around to apologize, but he was so close, I nearly collided with his chest.

I gasped and took half a step backward.

He looked down at me and warily touched my shoulders, placing firm hands there, and speaking, in spurts of breath and uncertainty.

"Look…I…I know what it's like…Dean…" He licked his lips, and looked toward the ceiling, continuing when he regained his train of thought. "I just…I don't know how else to say it.." He chewed his lip and sighed. "Let me…take you and your brother…home with me.."

The breath caught in my throat. I didn't know what to say. That was entirely inappropriate.

He couldn't actually be that nice. Nobody ever did that kind of stuff with purely good intentions. Did they?

"Um…Officer…"

"Castiel.." He corrected "Please…call me Castiel."

"okay…Castiel." The word felt wrong in my mouth, I wanted to spit it out as it rolled off my tongue. "I couldn't accept…"

He clenched his jaw and dropped his hands, holding them at his sides instead.

"It isn't…safe." He puffed, "I…" he gritted his teeth. "I can't let you stay here."

"Why not?" I put up my wall again. Who knows what this guy had planned for us.

"Because I know what it's like!" He burst. The sudden explosion of emotion from him threw me back on my heels.

"Know what what's like?" I cringed away form him, an dhe quickly collected himself.

"I was eighteen. And I had my chance. I took it." He trembled. "I ran away. I wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for people I met along the way." He sighed, reminiscing. "…and I get it. Okay? I know you can't go back. I can get your dad locked up for some time, but it's not going to be easy." He took a cautious step closer.

"So? If he's locked up who cares? We can go back home." I argued.

He shook his head. "No…Sam would be taken into the custody of the state."

"Son of a bitch!" I exclaimed, burying my hands in my hair. "So you expect me to trust you?" I scoffed. "Dude I barely know you!"

"You think I don't know that?" He said, defeated if I ever heard it.

"Dean?" Sam's soft voice came from the other side of the room, making me snap my head up, and rush to his side.

"Hiya Sammy… what's up?" I asked, pushing his sleep-hair form his head.

"Is that..?" He didn't finish the question. He knew the answer.

"Officer Castiel Novak." Castiel offered, holding out his hand, Sam shaking it gingerly.

"You… you want to help us?"

"Yes, Sam." He smiled and stood pertly next to me.

"No." I interjected. "I'm sorry but I just can't risk it."

"Dean…but he's willing to help us…" Sam argued, and his forehead creased, and his eyes swelled up and his lip pouted and my chest tightened.

Oh no. The puppy dog face.

"Sam.." I tried, but he already had me and he knew it.

"I'll pack my things." Sam exclaimed, jumping out of bed and throwing his clothes back into his bag.

"Sam…" I said again, trying to show just how upset I was that he had won.

"Dean, I promise you that I won't break your trust.." Castiel brought me back with those eyes. So blue it hurt.

Blue was such a beautiful color on him, I mused, taking not of his uniform again.

I realized what I was doing. _Checking him out?_ No, of course not.

I snapped my head back up so fast I saw spots. He looked at me and quirked an eyebrow, with a devilish grin that sent chills down my spine.

"You should grab your things, Dean." He suggested, that smile never leaving his stupid face.

I just nodded numbly, and shoved the book into my bag, and zipping it up. Now glad I'd been too lazy to unpack.

I wheeled around, apparently more swiftly than Officer Novak had suspected.

His eyes shot up from their place on my ass and met mine, a slight blush filling his cheeks.

My eyes widened in stunned bewilderment.

There's no way…

As if to deliberately defy me, his eyes slowly swept over my front, as I watched, vexed.

Was he just fucking with me?

I couldn't tell as his eyes scanned back up to my face and he smiled, no teeth, cheeks red, eyes on the floor.


	5. 72 Inch Hero

Sam was practically bounding around the room, stepping all over my feet as I weaved around the closed quarters, going to use the bathroom before we left.

"Hurry up." Sam hiccuped from excitement. I waved my hand at him and stepped into the gritty, all-tiles-and-no-paint room.

It reeked of cigarettes and cheap hookers. I hung over the sink for a moment, looking up at the water and…other secretions-stained mirror.

The brown outlines dripped down the reflective surface, making my stomach twist as my imagination generated all of the possible things that could actually be the stain of.

I ran the water for a moment, splashing my face and drying myself with my shirt.

_What was I supposed to do? I needed to do whatever I could to protect Sam. _

_But was this really the right thing to do? To let a stranger do what I couldn't?_

_Would Sam grow to love him more than me?  
I mean, what would happen when Cas was done babysitting would he ju-_

I nearly jumped from my own skin as a grating knock broke my train of thought.

I fixed my hair—it was completely disheveled from me grabbing it so much—and left the bitter room.

Cas and Sam were waiting, complete polar opposites. Cas stood statuesque, shoulders level and his head lifted to accommodate my intrusive gaze. Sammy, on the other hand, was stepping from foot to foot, smiling brightly with sleep dust still in his eyes.

He held out his bag to me, despite how unbalanced it made him. I hauled it over my shoulders, and held Sam's right hand. Sam couldn't feel it, of course. But he knew it was there. And that was all that mattered.

Cas looked at the gesture, so juvenile and I almost expected him to crack a joke. Although, he didn't seem the joking type. At least not around strangers.

But he was still willing to take us in?

"Well…I'm very glad you're allowing me this small pleasure." The Officer said instead of a poor-taste comment on the hand-holding with your not-so-little brother.

"No, thank you, Officer." Sam chimed in.

"You can call me Castiel, Sam." Castiel said.

"Yes, Castiel." Sam said, without glancing back. Instead he opened the door, and drag me to where the Police Car sat.

"I have to check out first, Sam." I told him with an amused smile as he physically deflated.

"I'll cover that." Castiel said, opening the back door. He gave a verbal tour as he backed away toward the motel, presumably to check us out.

"Shotgun!" Sam called before I could even protest. I shut my mouth quickly, almost biting my own tongue.

"Sam, I swear." I growled playfully, "There's no way I'm riding in the back."

"Too late!" He mocked, skipping over to the passenger side and climbing in.

I ground my teeth together. That little shit.

Cas returned then, smirking at my obvious frustration. "Looks like you'll have to ride in the back." He bit back a chuckle.

"I swear I'm gonna…" I trailed off, ducking into the back.

As I did so, Cas held down my head, and touched my wrists, guiding me as Cops do with criminals in cuffs.

I gave him a look of confusion, and he jumped back, laughing nervously. "Force of habit." He claimed.

I just nodded and shut the door. He climbed in immediately after.

Him and Sam had a concrete conversation about Biology.

I couldn't follow.

Nor did I want to.

But I just watched the dark road. Watched the faded yellow lines pass by. Each segment stopping, and starting again just as quickly.

Periodically I'd get the feeling of "Wow is this really happening?" I'd try and tell myself it was perfectly logical.

But in the end, I knew I had a soft spot for this Police Man.

Maybe it was his own past being in semblance with mine, or perhaps it was his impressive appearance.

Or maybe a bit of both.

I couldn't help but want this from the beginning. The second he mentioned it, my mind filled with fantasies of the perfect life again.

The life I had when I was a toddler. And yes, it would be much different now.

But it could be good again.

Maybe he really did have an interest in me as well.

I knew well enough that plenty of girls did at my school.

But…  
I looked at the streetlamps now. As the lights flashed by placing hazy dots in my vision.

Staining my retinas like the hotel mirror.

_I wasn't gay, right?_

I shifted again, placing my hands between my thighs.

_Of course not. _

I just never had a crush on a girl before.

_Was I bisexual?_

_Was that okay?_

I didn't see why not.

But at the same time, what would Sam think?

I wanted to ask myself what would my parents and friends think, but I realized I had none.

_What about Cas?_

_Cas?_

_Huh. A nickname._

I realized with a pang I had started calling him 'Cas.'

I wondered what he'd think of that.

Him and Sam chatted earnestly about authors and classical books.

So he was a smartass too.

That made me grateful. Sam could have a tutor now.

Well, if Cas would agree.

I mean, why did I expect so much from him?

He was willing to give us a home and I wanted more?

I mentally kicked myself for such a selfish thought.

Before I could reevaluate my previous thoughts, the car stopped.

"Here we are." Castiel said and Sam let out a mew of joy, jumping over the seat and squeezing Cas in his right arm.

"Sam," I chastised him for his puppy-like ways of affection.

"Sorry." He blushed. "I just…thank you."

But I couldn't help but feel like hugging the man as well. His house was a beautiful 2-story corner home, with a winding staircase visible in the brightly-lit windows.

I could imagine it covered in tacky wallpaper and all hardwood floors.

It was grand. But somehow there was nothing over-the-top about it.

It suited Castiel.

"Would you like a tour?" He asked with a smile that told me even if I'd said no, he'd give us one anyway.

"Ye-es!" Sam said, pouncing from the car, barely waiting for us to join him before he galloped up the walkway, illuminated by solar lanterns on either side.

"It's a magnificent property." I complimented.

"Oh, it's nothing really." He waved his hand appreciatively, though.

I figured he'd be either an egotistic prick, or a total modest.

He was, thankfully, the latter of the two.

"You really don't have to do this.." I added quietly.

"Now, Dean." He placed his hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly.

I gritted my teeth as he festered a bruise.

"Please, I want…" He paused, dropping his hand. "I need to do this."

"Why?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Because I can't let you and your brother out on the streets, I simply can't." He said, genuine compassion in his tone.

"I can pay you." I said, and before he could protest, I continued. "Don't even say no. It isn't my style to be some free-loader. And don't say we won't be because that isn't true. I can give you enough to pay for our expenses every month. Whatever it may be." I forgot to breathe in between, suddenly raking in a breath at the end of my lecture.

He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted when we reached the door. He unlocked it and we stepped inside.

"I'll accept half of what you expected to pay for an apartment." He said, I could've argued but I was too busy looking.

Most of what I imagined was true. Except, it was so much more than wood floors and old wallpaper.

The ceilings were vaulted and the entire room smelled of books.

Probably due to the entire wall of bookshelves, stocked with enough books to fill my school library.

Sam's and my own mouth had gaped in awe.

"This is the den." He offered, letting us take in the large TV to the back wall, the plush navy couches and single corner lamp, all other light coming in from the kitchen to our left.

He took us over to the kitchen, where everything was cherry wood cabinets and marble countertops. Stainless steel appliances and spotless countertops.

The fridge was void of any personal photos or reminders.

It looked fit for a professional chef.

In the middle was a clean island, with a woodblock of knifes and cutting board.

He welcomed us into the dining room, with Victorian chairs and a table capable of fitting 16 guests.

Then we went upstairs, the winding staircase polished and smelled of lemon cleanser.

Upstairs was a bathroom, three spare rooms, which we could choose from, and Castiel's room, which was surprisingly plain. A single king bed, with a canopy. The sheets were the color of his eyes, and I found that adorable.

**_Adorable?_**

But it just had a nightstand and another bookshelf, a dresser, and his own bathroom.

He said if we wanted to take showers at the same time we were welcome to use his.

That was one of the most taken-for-granted luxuries I'd ever heard.

No more hearing Sam bitch and moan while trying to get one off in the shower.

"Oh thank god." Sam exhaled "Dean takes forever." And he glared at me, pursing his lips. He knew. Of course he knew. But the way he had just said it. Looking at me, and peering at Cas like it was some fucking invitation.

He might as well have said "Hey Castiel Dean jerks off in the shower and he wishes you would help him."

So? Sam shut the fuck up, I wanted to say.

But I just blabbered and blushed.

**_Blushed?_**

Cas gave me the most sympathetic look of the entire night.

I blushed harder

**_Blushed?_**

I threw my hands in my face now. "Sam you're a bitch."

"Jerk." Sam stuck his tongue out before skipping away to tour the house on his own.

We were left alone then. My cheeks were red hot, and I could feel sweat forming on my brow.

He just looked at me, eyes soft and laughing.

_Dammit, just say something!_  
"So, it's hard to get privacy at your house?" He asked, although it could'e been aimed in general, we both knew it wasn't.

_Oh god what is he even asking?_

"Uh…" I just sat there, hands hot and itching.

"Yeah, I remember the days." He said, removing the things from his utility belt, and then the belt.

He ripped it from the loops with a loud slap.

I gulped.

"Never a moment to myself." He said, hanging the belt up in a specific spot on the back of his door.

I noticed, he had to close the door to reach it.

_Oh god. _

"You have any siblings?" I asked, my voice ragged and meek.

He nodded. "Many siblings."

"Ah."

"Yeah." He began unbuttoning his shirt. I reeled back and my mouth went dry.

He noticed my actions and stopped, "Do you mind?" He asked, motioning to himself.

I could say yes. But wouldn't that just make it more obvious?

_Make what obvious?_

That I was into him?

_Was I into him?_

"No." I concluded, and sat on the bed.

_Did he think now I wanted to see him strip?_

_Did I want to see him strip? _

He smiled, mischief in his eyes.

He unbuttoned his shirt, more and more pale, hard flesh revealed with every button.

I watched as a dark trail began to appear. He undid the last button and pulled the tails of his shirt from his pants.

The dark hairs disappeared under his waistline.

I watched, mesmerized. God I hated it but I wanted to see more.

"Dean?" Cas asked.

And I jerked to look up at him.

He was closer than I remembered. Only a foot away, looking down at me. That trail was level with my mouth. I could have sobbed.

"Yes?"

"Will you show me now?" I looked up at him and the confusion on my face was enough for him to elaborate.

"You said you'd show me what your father did to you…later." He sounded very quiet. Outside of himself. He was unsure, and it didn't seem like him at all. "It's…later..now."

I wanted to say no. But he was showing himself to me.

And as he turned to place his shirt in the hamper, I saw harsh scars across his back.

_Were those…whip marks?_

He trusted me with his wounds.

He was letting me stay in his home.

I nodded gently once he'd turned back around.

"You sure?" He pursued.

I felt tears prick my eyes. I shook my head.

"I'm sorry, Dean." He whispered sitting next to me.

"Don't be."

"I just…I want to help you." He sounded hoarse, as if he were getting emotional himself. "I just…I must help you."

"Why do you keep saying that?" I asked, touching the hem of my shirt. I could remove it, take it off and have him wrap me up and fix me.

I flickered my attention to the blood stains on my legs.

_I needed to clean my thigh anyway._

I felt a pulse in my groin as I thought of him tending to the wound, on his knees. Me…only in my boxer briefs.

**_What the fuck Dean?_**

"It' why I'm a cop, Dean." He said after a few moments. "Because…people like…like your father…and my step-father…" He bit his lip, and I turned to him, aware of just how close he was, how warm he was.

How open and raw he was.

"They need to be punished for what they do." He snarled. "And kids like you and your brother," his rage, as quickly as it had flared, dissipated. "deserve redemption and…they deserve a place to call home. At least."

I felt my heart clench at his words.

It was such a cliché about police men being heroes today. All they really did anymore was give out tickets and sit on their asses, watching the world around them fall apart.

But looking at Cas, I realized, he was a hero.

He was taking me and Sam, and saving us.

He was pulling us out of hell.

And he wanted to.

Because he refused to watch anything bad happen under his control.

I could understand it after that moment.

His relationship with me, was much like mine with Sam.


	6. The Caretaker

He felt like it was his job to protect me. (Well..it was)  
But not to this extent.

Was he going to eventually turn us in? Or were we just going to fall off the map completely?

"So you want me and Sam to live here.." I looked at him with fair scrutiny. I mean, he had to know how chaotic this all was.

"Yes." He confirmed, and those eyes looked anything but unsure.

"I'll pay you 250 a month." I said, wiping my hands on my pants.

"If you really wish to." He sighed. "I really don't need it."

"Yeah, well.." I couldn't just sit around and not pay him for his troubles. "Too bad."

"That's fine, then." He concluded, standing up suddenly and striding over to his closet, fishing out a plain grey t-shirt, and slipping it over his head.

I watched the grey cloak over harsh pink scars and frowned.

"Did your step-father do that to you?" I murmured, and he turned to look at me with wide eyes, and furrowed brows. It looked like one of Sam's 'Dean, pleeaassee' faces.

"Did what?" He stuttered, hands groping his lower back instinctively.

"…I'm sorry..I shouldn't-"

"No…!" He interrupted, throwing his hand out to stop me from continuing. He realized he had sounded rather forward. "No.." He tried again, voice soft and understanding. "It's fine. Really, it is."

"Okay.." I ventured, gesturing to his back.

"Yes, when I was 16.." He rubbed the back of his neck.

I realized I didn't know exactly how long ago that was. This was a good opportunity to get his actual age.

"And…how old are you?" I asked, trying not to sound ridiculous.

He just chuckled hollowly and looked at me through his lashes, batting them suggestively. "Why do you want to know?" He challenged.

I felt my face go hot again, and I tried to find something logical to say. Something not intrusive and slightly to extremely creepy.

"I'm just messing with you." He said whole-heartedly, patting me reassuringly. I just gushed and mentally kicked myself again.

"I'm 23, if you really want to know."

I gulped. Better than I expected. We weren't that far apart. I mean, I'd hooked up with that 22-year old chick at Ash's birthday party, and that was two years ago.

What? Was I thinking about hooking up with Cas? The police officer?

"You seem distracted." Cas observed. And I was, considering I hadn't really registered the words until he touched my arm.

"Oh…yeah." I tried to come up with an excuse, I really did, but I looked up at him and I just got lost in those oceans. Drowning in pure blue, reaching for that safe black pupil, but it, too gets swallowed in blue.

He looked back, just mesmerizing me all the harder.

"Dean, I don't want you to think I'm being an ass or anything, but I really should inspect your wounds." He said after a few moments of quiet staring.

I coughed in response, reminded of how uncomfortable this could be.

"That is a lot of blood." He added, pointing to my leg, where it had festered even more with me wiping my sweaty hands all over my thighs.

I cursed and he told me he'd be right back.

He padded over to the bathroom, grabbing a pair of plaid sweat pants on his way, changed into clean pants and I silently thanked the heavens because there was no way I could handle any more of his bare skin.

He returned with new pants, and a large white box with a red cross on it. First aid kit.

"Would you mind removing your shirt?" He asked, his voice low, and serious.

But I felt my tongue swell none the less.

"Thought you'd never ask." I teased and he let out an amused sound.

I self-consciously removed my shirt, watching him as he fished around the kit, pulling out gauze and antiseptic.

I balled my shirt in my hands and nervously pulled at its slightly elastic collar.

He looked up and paused, although I couldn't tell if he did it on purpose or not.

He scanned my entire torso, eyes uneasy, mouth pulled tight.

But he silently wept, Tears fell from his eyes as he saw my bruised body.

Any chance of this turning sexual was lost as he pulled me up into his arms and hugged me, so careful and hesitant but I needed it.

God I wanted it.

The warmth of him, easing away the pain.

He took it away, whether he knew it or not.

But you must think, you can't just take away pain. But he did.

Maybe because most of it hurt deep down in my psyche.

I needed positive touches every so often. Maybe it was why I hooked up with girls I didn't even like.

Maybe it was why I found myself more interested in men. Because my father was such a piece of shit I needed to convince myself not everyone was like him.

And they weren't.

Cas wasn't. He was more like me than I'd ever have guessed.

But he was so different on another level.

He was mature and strong. He was true to himself and wasn't afraid to show his scars.

But I was weak. A shadow of a man in his presence.

"Dean, I'm so sorry." He whispered again and again, rocking me in his arms like a baby.

I would have said it's okay, no big deal, get the hell off of me. But it felt so good.

It felt fucking fantastic to be able to put down the front, just once, and let go.

Let go of all the self-hatred and let him hold me.

Take care of me.

"I know, Cas." I whispered and he gently pulled me backward to look at my face.

I realized then what I'd said. "Oh, I'm sorry… Castiel." I corrected.

"No" He grinned so wide I thought his skin might rip from being pulled so extensively across his cheeks. "I love that."

I smiled back, pride glowing in my belly. "You do?"

"Yes." He nodded enthusiastically. Then he looked back down at me, and sniffed.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

"Okay."

He had me sitting on the floor, back against his bed, as he put salve over my many bruises.

The fresh ones were bright purple now. Some even black mixed with blue.

The older ones slowly faded to light purples and blues, some even green-ish.

And most of them were faded greys and yellows.

We talked as he fixed me.

His hands ran over my sides and massaged on the oily balm.

"When was the last time?" He asked, ironically rubbing the ones from earlier that day.

"Today." I choked.

He hesitated for a moment. He chewed the inside of his cheek and continued.

"What happened?"

I told him everything, starting with the morning up until he came.

About John being wasted. Sam knocking him out. Of course, after he tried to kill me.

Cas was quiet for a while after I was done speaking. He didn't say much but I knew he was angry.

"I'm going to put him away for a long time." He growled, and when he looked at me the pure, fiery rage in his eyes told me everything.

And I couldn't help but reach out and grab his hand. I'm not sure what made me do it, but the anger ran from his eyes, leaving only pain and concern.

I knew I mirrored it back to him, but I didn't want him to be worried.

"We're safe with you." I said, and something about that made his face brighten visibly.

He nodded, and continued rubbing cream on my bruises.

He then got out a bandage and told me to lift my arms. I did as I was told and he wrapped it all the way around my mid-section. Tight enough so that it didn't fall, but loose enough that I still had flexibility.

Then, he did something I don't think I'd have ever pictured someone like him doing.

Despite how docile he looked now, out of his uniform, he had strong, lean muscles under those clothes. And I was pretty sure he could over power me, even if I didn't want to admit it.

But for being the guy I thought he was; leaning down and kissing my ribs wasn't something I'd expected to see.

Although, it was something that would change Cas and my relationship immensely.

"Cas." I forced out, after regaining my voice. I had lost the ability to speak after he kissed me.

He turned back around from his squat, where he was putting away the ointment.

"Um..my leg.." I said awkwardly pointing to my own almost-crotch.

"Oh." He said smiling with an inside-joke waiting on those lips.

"Do you want me to…?" I touched my belt, my hands on fire because I was actually asking him if he wanted me to take my pants off.

(Context? What context?)

"I thought you'd never ask." He looked up at me and his eyes were swallowed by pupil this time.

I felt my heart beat in my throat. Did he really just fucking take my own line and use it against me right before I was going to be nearly-naked in front of him?

I began to regret this decision as my belt came off.

Oh god could I really control myself if he accidentally did something sexy?

Sexy? Cas wasn't…sexy. He was gorgeous.

But sexy wasn't the right word. He was too classy for that.

What if he accidentally touches my dick? And I got hard. My face went white at the thought.

Oh god, this better not blow up in my face.

But as I shucked my jeans off, Cas was entirely relaxed.

So I tried to be too.

He examined the wound for a moment, before reaching into the box and gathering a box of butterfly band-aides, some Neosporin, Hydrogen Peroxide, and more gauze.

"Let's start with this." He held up the hydrogen peroxide and I winced.

"I know, I know." He smiled in sympathy.

"Just get it over with." I sighed and as he prepared some cotton balls, I found myself clutching his shoulders as the alcohol drained into my body.

It stung like bees, but inside my leg, through my bloodstream where I'm sure an infection was starting.

It bubbled and hissed loudly, white bubbles frothing at the surface of the wound.

It felt like hours until the pain began to subside, but when it did I released Cas's shirt and he chuckled, because apparently neither one of us had noticed until then.

He cleaned it up with some anti-bacterial wipes, and doused it in Neosporin.

Then came the butterfly band-aides. He placed them on either side of the cut and held it together.

It would heal much better this way.

Then, of course he asked me to bend my knee slightly so he could reach under my leg and wrap it up for me.

His hands were so close to my crotch I could feel their balminess radiating into me.

But I ignored it, because he was taking care of me. And, on its own, that was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me.

He fastened the gauze, perfectly secure so it would stay, but it wasn't cutting off my circulation either.

Then, he leaned down and kissed it.

I could have came up with a thousand reasons why that was arousing, because holy fuck it was.

But at the same time, I couldn't find myself being too bothered by it. It was a sign of nurturing more than anything. The fact that he wanted to care for me and I wanted to be taken care of.

"Cas?" I asked after everything was cleaned up, except my shirt, because I honestly didn't feel like wearing it. But my pants were back on, and we were still.

We had been sitting in comfy silence for a while now.

"Hm?" He asked, lazily rolling his head to look at me.

"Thanks."

"No problem, Dean."

Then it was quiet again.

Another few minutes.

"Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

I had been staring at him the whole time, watching him as he set his alarm, and checked his messages.

All the while staying on the floor flushed next to me.

He didn't want to move.

I didn't want him to.

"I said yes, Dean." He repeated, as I stayed silent for a few moments, just staring, lost in my thoughts.

And all of my thoughts, were about Cas.

In that moment, everything was Castiel.

The hero.

The man who was saving me, saving Sam, too.

But he understood better than anyone, even Sammy, ever could have.

He understood and he was perfect.

He was polite and witty and despite his stuck-up looks, he was laid-back and flexible.

Not to mention his immaculate features.

Or the way he could heal me, with just a touch.

It all sounds so adolescent-school-girl, but it's true.

And I knew I was developing a crush on the cop.

"Dean, spit it out." He teased, nudging me playfully.

"I'm sorry." I chuckled, and I couldn't tell you now where the courage came from.

Maybe it was the utter affection I felt that fueled me forward.

Or possibly the pure draw of him that seemed to get to me so easily.

But I couldn't control myself from cocking my head to him, leaning toward his mouth.

And I certainly couldn't control him leaning back, hands so cautious, as they warmly cupped around my neck.

I couldn't control the fire inside when our lips finally, finally met.

The explosion I felt was both nerves and butterflies, mixed with untamed succession.

We were kissing. There on his floor.

His lips were everything I expected and more.

They were plush and wet and warm.

His forehead leaned against mine as his breath filled my mouth.

I had to counteract the weight he placed on me, so I wrapped my arms loosely around his shoulders.

It could have been a lustful, needy kiss. It should have been, I suppose.

But instead it was just a kiss.

Well, not just a kiss.

It was a bond, a permanent mark I'd have. My first kiss with a man, huh?

But that wasn't the only reason.

It was because this particular kiss, was the single most intimate act I'd ever shared with another person at that point in my life.

It was so full of tender heart and honest adoration I can't even describe it accurately without the words feeling empty compared to the actually act.

It was a lifetime before we parted.

But as our lip finally withdrew, hands unwinding and bodies separating (not by very much), I looked into his eyes, glazed and totally wound.

"Dean?" He nearly whimpered. The sound went straight to my cock. Oops.

"Yes, Cas?" I answered, crossing my legs.

"Sleep…here…with me..tonight." He knew well enough that I could have taken it as a sexual advance.

But the sheer look of longing and the stress it caused him, evident on his face, convinced me otherwise.

"No problem, Cas." Because maybe, I didn't really want to leave either.


	7. Fall For You

Castiel's POV

"I…I'm sorry." I huffed out a nervous laugh. His eyes pinned me to my place on the floor. Those huge emerald eyes kept me from moving. I couldn't even breathe, just caught by those nets of merciless green.

And in addition to that I was somewhat paralyzed by that kiss.

When he moved closer, I knew in my heart it was only a matter of time. Dean isn't exactly transparent.

Not at all, actually.

But that was probably the give away.

Reminds me of myself.

But as we touched, it was like lightning went through me. And I had thought, he's a teenager, they try and fuck anything that moves, right?  
I wouldn't have stopped him if that's what he wanted. Honestly, even if I didn't want it, I'd have done it.

Maybe because I wanted desperately to make him happy.

Was that wrong?

But I found myself caught up in Dean's world. Found myself aching to hold him and protect him.

Maybe it all goes back to how nobody really did that for me when I was his age.

I wanted him to have what I couldn't.

Because he'd already been through enough.

His lips tasted like mint. Spearmint. And his skin was soft and warm and he smelled like dirt and booze and medicine and engine exhaust and I just lost my will to ignore it.

Lost my will to ignore the fact that something was different about this kid.

He wasn't some horny teenager looking for a hook up.

He wasn't.

By the way he touched me I knew.

By the way I touched back I knew he wasn't alone.

I didn't want to admit it, but I most likely had feelings for him.

In such a short time I had realized how much I wanted to save him.

And maybe it started off as it being my job.

Police Officers are supposed to protect people. Especially kids.

And then maybe I felt I could relate.

It all went downhill from there.

And now I was putting my job on the line by taking all the extra measures to keep them together and safe.

And now the need to help him evolved into a need to…

To personally protect him.

"No..why are you sorry?" He asked, edging forward ever-so-slightly. So innocently, so pure and fresh. I wish he'd stop doing that.

"This isn't like me." I said, feeling my cheeks flush brazenly at the way he must see me. He must be so confused. What kind of man takes in two children and isn't seen as a predator?

And then you kiss one of them and you expect that to be okay?

He laughed, not really, but he tried to sound convincing.

"I never said you were."

"…Look you don't have to." I breathed, rubbing the back of my neck.

"I…" He bit his lip and thought of what he wanted to say next. "Look…all of this is so new…and…" He reached for his shirt, where it lay haphazardly on the floor. The familiar touch of it calmed his nerves.

"I understand." I nodded curtly. I didn't want to hear any more.

"Cas…Castiel." He said, making me look back into those wavering eyes.

"Dean I don't know what I'm doing." I scoffed. And the horror that ripped through those very same eyes nearly broke my heart.

"What do you mean?" He asked, his voice breaking ever-so-slightly.

"Dean…you're…I shouldn't be taking advantage of you like this."

"Taking advantage of me?" He snapped, shoving my shoulders.

It threw me back quite a bit.

Not because of the force of it, exactly. But more due to the fact that, as a cop, people tend not to dare touch you.

At least not smart people.

I swallowed a harsh retort, clenching my jaw and pressing the words back down my throat.

Don't, I told myself. Just. Don't.

"Look," I watched him ease backward, as he realized what he'd just done. His eyes were glazing over and I knew he was holding together the flood gates with a piece of string. "Dean…It isn't right if I…"

"If you WHAT?" His voice raised an octave with the last word. Hi eyebrows stitched together and the fear and stabbing agony contorted his face into one I almost didn't recognize.

"Dean I can't bring you into my home…and I can't let myself do this." I let out a ragged breath, so torn between myself.

It wasn't right, of course.

But…It felt so comfortable.

So calm and serene…

So _right_.

"Let yourself do what?" He screamed inside an accusatory whisper.

I threw my head into my hands and groaned.

"Fall for you." I nearly hissed.

The words were so painful on my own lips.

Painful because they were nearly inevitable at this moment.

I knew I couldn't let him leave.

And I knew that if, and when he stayed I wouldn't be able to top myself.

Not after…that.

I'd never been kissed like that before.

Never felt someone's intentions through their lips.

I mean sure it's obvious when someone wants to bone you they're rubbing all voer you and desperate.

But when I was expecting this from Dean, I got an eternity or reasons why that wasn't the case.

And it was perfect.

And I didn't want it to stop.

And I will admit that—fuck—I needed it.

I needed to be needed.

He was quiet. And although I couldn't actually see him, I knew he was easing backward, gripping his knees in his hands, stunned to silence.

"Cas?" He asked a few moments later, after he had finally taken a breather. Taken a moment to clear his head and see it through my eyes.

"Yes?" I answered, slowly raising my head to look at him.

He had been staring blankly at the wall. He turned his head to meet my gaze.

"What if I told you it was okay?" He spoke each word carefully. As if tucking them all in together at night and kissing them to sleep. He enhanced the meaning behind each word, but more importantly what they meant all together.

"I would think…you'd be afraid of falling." I replied, aware of the brutal truth I was exposing.

He nodded as if regarding the words, but indifferent to them.

"Something tells me you'd catch me." He assured, whether it was more for my benefit or his own, I'll never know.


	8. Scary Movies and Scary Moves

Of course I was afraid. Afraid to be able to trust someone other than myself.  
But so much of me wanted so badly to trust him, needed to trust him, I couldn't even begin to push away the thought of putting myself in another man's hands (literally) and letting him heal me.

I didn't realize it at the time but Cas was gradually sewing the wound caused by my father's mistreatment.

He was letting me become whole again.

He was not only patching me up, but filling in the empty spaces left behind.

Before my mind could wander too far, I heard Sam's voice echo through the house.

"De-an!" He exclaimed urgently. I grinned at the small sing-song quality to his voice.

"Ye-es?" I answered back.

"Come here!" He demanded, all politeness lost along with his patience.

"Yeah yeah hold on." I could feel myself getting caught between two worlds as I looked at Cas, where he tried to seem aloof, but I could tell by the tension in his arms, he was hoping I wouldn't be long.

And I almost wanted to agree, but at the same time I couldn't abandon Sam.

I offered him a hopeful, sympathetic smile and pulled my T-shirt over my head.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, accompanied by a small stomp of foot.

"I'm coming! Jesus, Sam!" I shouted back, hurrying out of Castiel's room and finding my way to where I approximated Sammy's voice was emanating from.

Sam was in one of bedrooms down the hall. I was about to object as to all the reasons he was such a bug baby and overreacted to everything when I noticed the content of the posters hanging on the walls.

"Oh my god." I gasped, feeling my stomach churn because Cas just got so much cooler.

"You like?" Came the older man's voice. I noted that he had followed me, and was now leaning against the door frame, casual as could be.

"Oh my fucking god this is awesome." I swooned, letting out a nervous chuckle because I had no idea what else I could do.

The room was painted crimson red, but you wouldn't really have known on account of the giant flat-screen that covered the wall parallel to the entrance, and the dozens of posters.

Also, the shelves upon shelves filled with movies.

And every last one was a horror flick.

And on each poster graced just about every single one of my favorites.

The movie posters were vintage, to say the least, considering most of them were no older than 1985.

Pet Sematary, The Shining, Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, American Werewolf in Paris, Friday the 13th , The Exorcist. I blinked, almost hoping they'd go away so I could stop being so jealously in love.

"Are you kidding?" I coughed, willing myself to move forward and get a better look.

"Dean _loves_ horror movies." Sam explained with a roll of his eyes.

"You're damn right I do." I retorted, scanning through the movies, in alphabetical order.

"I do too, obviously." Cas piped up, and I had to look back at him to smile, just to show him how much I loved that he did.

"You got a favorite?" I asked, gently running my fingers over each DVD, and taking note of the VHS tapes of all the same movies, on a different shelf. He must be upgrading, I thought.

"Not particularly." He mused, stepping in line beside me, "I'll watch anything." He added.

"I can't believe this," I stated quite honestly, "How many do you have?"

"Ehh…I lost count. Somewhere in the low hundreds." He answered, dusting off his VHS copy of My Bloody Valentine.

"Holy shit." I envied him. I had seen every one of these movies courtesy of the local video rental place, or cheap thrift store copies.

But to own them all was a different story.

He chuckled, his eyes glittering proudly. "I'm so glad you and I have something else in common." He said, looking at me with those lethal eyes, so joyous and free I wanted to live inside of them.

"Me too." I gushed, but nearly jumped from my skin when Sam cleared his throat.

_Shit._ I forgot he was there.

"I'm going to sleep in the next room over." He announced. "See you in the morning."

And he left quite quickly after that.

"Would you like to watch something?" Castiel offered after Sam had stopped moving around.

"Would I?!" I exclaimed, all awkward brother shaming forgotten.

"Go ahead, you pick."

"Oh boy." I sighed, staring at the stacks of films, trying to find something that jumped out to me.

And then I saw it, **_Wendigo_**.

"This new?" I asked, plucking it's plastic case from the shelf.

"Yes, actually!" Cas grinned, "I hadn't gotten a chance to see it yet."

"Well that's perfect then isn't it?"

"Yes, it seems so."

"Then, this one." I held it out to him and he placed it into the DVD player.

In the center of the room was a couch, and placed diagonally on each side were recliners.

But as I snuggled myself down into the folds of the suede couch, I couldn't help but feel forlorn as he sat in one of the chairs instead.

As the previews began, he flicked off the lights.

"Cas?" I spoke as the beginning credits rolled.

"Hm?" He asked, not flickering his attention from the screen. My heart pounded erratically. Was I really that uninteresting?

"…will you sit with me?" I asked, feeling myself break at the thought of him rejecting me. How could I be so dumb? This was two guys watching a horror flick. Not a guy holding his girlfriend so she didn't get scared.

He looked at me though, his eyes searching my face through the dim lighting.

"Of course." He finally said, crawling over the arms of the chair and couch and nesting himself next to me. "You scared?" He teased.

I gently punched his arm. "Shut up.." But I was just relieved he wasn't repulsed by me or something.

"It's okay, I'll hold your wittle hand." He mocked, but as his fingers jokingly slipped between mine I found him so inviting and warm. I didn't let go.

Neither did he.

"Good.." was all I could say, feeling safe with his fingers in mine. Feeling full and flat-out contrary of my typical state of solitude.

We watched the movie in content silence, stopping only when I let my head fall, ever-so-slowly into his chest.

"What's up?" He asked in a hushed whisper.

"I never really had anything like this before…thank you." I answered, so comfortable and complacent in his lap, his masculine scent all around me, his heat blanketing me all around.

"What, a movie room?" He queried with n amused laugh.

"No…a.. a friend." I replied, feeling his gut tighten at my words.

His arm came around and reached over my shoulders, his wrist curving around to touch my cheek.

"Me either." He admitted.


	9. Capisce?

My body alerted me into the waking world at approximately 5:30 AM the next morning.

The first thing to catch my attention was the lithe figure standing over me, they smelled of after shave and Dove men's shampoo.

With a sloppy hand I rubbed the previously unused muscles in my face, rousing them with the rest of my body. I stretched out my jaw and clicked it in place a few times before really getting a good look at the man above me.

It was Castiel, of course, but he was dressed in his uniform again, and he was tiptoeing about the room, gently placing _Wendigo_ back in her place.

Then I remembered some things from last night. First came what was closest to my slumber; the movie, the movie room, Cas's room, Cas's lips…

I gulped and groggily sat up.

Cas turned to me and froze like a deer in the headlights.

"Sorry." He whispered hoarsely in the dusk's light, or lack thereof.

"It's okay." I replied in a voice that had yet to remember how to speak, especially at this hour.

"I…I had left you a note." He described, pointing toward the end table to the left of my head.

I reached to grab it, but found my arms bound in a blanket.

That hadn't been there before.

"Sorry.." Cas apologized again, fiddling with his shirt's buttons.

He'd put a blanket on me.

As I untangled my arms, I secretly found his act of kindness romantic as all hell.

The small scrap of paper explained that he'd left for work, but prepared Sam and I breakfast, and was going to take care of our Dad today.

I help it for a moment longer than was necessary and then looked at Cas.

"Thank you."

He said nothing, but just nodded respectfully and walked over to me.

He sat by my feet and I realized how much space there was on this couch. A question came to mind.

"…Did you..?" The way he looked up, those eyes, even blue in the dark, told all.

He and I had fallen asleep watching the movie. Together. Holding hands in each other's arms like some sort of chick flick.

He'd probably woken up a few hours later and wrapped me up in a blanket and went back into his room.

Or had he stayed?

"I…hope you don't mind." His voice was low, but distinguishable against the sound of silence throughout the rest of his home.

I felt butterflies flit around in my stomach. "Of course not." I answered genuinely.

He smiled at that, hesitantly and ever-so evasively.

"Were you and Sam planning on going to school?" He asked after a few more moment of silence.

I sighed, placing the note back on the table and using my now free hand to touch my forehead dramatically.

"It's alright if you would like to stay here.." He said.

"What?" I almost barked at him, "we can't.." I shook my head.

"You two are already missing children. You are already on the National Database of Missing Children. You go to school and they'll take you right to him." He explained.

"But what about after you…" I paused, finding my words to be asking too much, "if you do get him locked up, then what?"

He blinked sullenly, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I'm going to have to hide you until I can figure out something else." He sounded so defeated.

How could we do this? Ask this of him? He could get fired. And not only that but he could never get another job again.

_God dammit, Dean what the fuck is wrong with you?_

"We can't do that." I snapped, sitting up against him.

"Dean.." He chastised.

"No," I interrupted. "this is all too much, it's too risky, I don't care if you want to I can't let you do this." I argued.

He was rather quiet for a few moments before he spoke again, this time his voice was strong and confident.

"Dean, I know this is hard for you, I know you don't want to accept my help, nor do you want me to get in trouble because of you." I nodded, knowing he would continue, but wanting him to know that he was on the right track there.

"But I'm not asking for your permission." His eyes were dark, his voice was rough and unrelenting as I shrunk down beside him. He pierced into me like a dagger covered in liquor, and it was kind of fucking hot.

"You will leave this to me, and you will do what I ask of you, capisce?" He was so close to me I could feel each warm, mint-flavored breath and could taste the moisture in each word as he exhaled on my face.

"Yes…I capisce." I answered, practically quaking under his intense glare.

"Good." He answered, but where I expected him to pull away or recoil, instead he threaded a hand at the back of my head and pulled it into his shoulder, wrapping his other arm across my back and rocking me fittingly.

"You don't have to do all this." Was all I could say, my arms finding their way around his ribs.

"I do." He answered, his words going straight into my hair.

I wasn't about to attempt to argue.

He released me after a few more minutes of quiet breathing and gently rocking.

He checked his watch and sighed at the observation.

"I better be off." He clarified.

I nodded, but I wanted to ask him not to.

But then I remembered what he was going to do today.

He was going to try and put my father away and vindicate Sammy and me.

And I had no doubt he _could_ do it.

But that didn't mean I _wanted_ him to.


	10. The Day Job

This next chapter is written in Castiel's POV, also we get to learn more about Cas's background!  
Also a disclaimer that I know nothing about police work and everything written was taken from what I know of police from Dexter and Psych so if anything is wrong or needs correcting please tell me because I don't actually know how police station's run.

* * *

I left Dean and Sam alone in my house, and I was on my way to jail their father in an attempt to keep them, what, _safe_?

_Dean was a legal adult, and he could very well lose his job, and education because of truancy._

_Unless he decided to drop out. Which, I could see him leaning toward already. _

_But what about Sam? Could he really adopt him after practically kidnapping him? _

_And what if John pressed charges against Dean?_

These questions, along with at least a dozen others flashed across the peripheral of my conscience as I drove to the police station.

"Morning Castiel." Greeted a comely young woman known as Charlie Bradbury, she was a good friend of mine, and perhaps the only person besides myself (and maybe now Dean) that I could relate to.

"Hey Charlie." I said, treating myself to a mug of cheap coffee provided by the Township. I added three cream, and three sugars. Charlie watched with amused scrutiny and a slight wince growing on her upper lip.

"Don't say it." I smiled faintly, as she almost always made a good-natured remark about either a) that was going to be the death of me or b) how I look so much more like the coffee-black type.

But instead she just shook her head and tightened her lips together, a promise to not saying a word.

"So, how about those missing boys..?" I asked after a few seconds of stirring my tepid beverage. She let out a muffled sound, making me look up from the swirling contents of the chipped porcelain mug.

She held a hair scrunchy between her teeth as she pulled her vibrant red locks into a tight bun. She knotted the tie and spoke, "I heard that their dad's a real psycho." She twirled her finger around in a circle parallel her temple, to demonstrate.

"Yes but…what about the kids?" I asked rather anxiously.

She raised a brow, but then realization flushed over her face and she almost looked s if she wanted to apologize, but decided against it.

She thought it was personal for me because of my past.

Good.

I felt guilty for lying, but I couldn't tell her yet. Possibly not even at all, I should at least concur with Dean first.

"Nobody's seen anything," She concluded, shuffling a stack of papers in a manila envelope and placing them in a small aluminum basket on her desk.

"Right." I nodded, taking a sip of the coffee.

"You find anything at that motel?" She asked, although she knew the answer, well, the fake one I was going to give her anyway.

My gut twisted with remorse as I answered a terse, "Nothing."

She nodded slowly and turned back to her paperwork.

I clocked myself in and went to my small desk where I would fill out a faux police report about my investigation at the motel.

After I had finished, I placed it in Gabriel's, our Lieutenant's, mailbox. He would go over it and give it to the Captain, Michael. They were all rather tolerable, Although sometimes I wondered how Gabriel had managed to even make the force let alone Lieutenant.

Michael could be a bit overbearing but he was just doing his job. It was Crowley I worried about. He was the Chief of Police, and though I'd only met with him personally a handful of times, I knew _exactly_ why he got the job.

He looked at you like you were dirt between his toes, and he spoke to you like you were even worse.

He had chocolate brown hair and a fair amount of stubble to match. He was portly, however, not hardly unattractive. He had a heavy Scottish accent and the most impeccable black suits with his ties being the only piece of clothing that seemed to change. It wasn't like he was the king of hell, but he wasn't exactly a peach.

He wanted things to get done and get done right. But from what I'd been told, he had a soft spot for me, considering my background he still insisted on accepting me. He said I had 'spunk.' And he grinned. He may have sniffed me too, I can't be sure.

But I wouldn't, and didn't let it bother me. He was pleasant enough for the short amount of time we spent together over the years.

I sat back at my desk, my eyes wandering toward the now empty desk cross from me. Our Sergeant, Zachariah, had recently retired. I sighed, thankful he was finally gone.

He was a total prick. Always bossing me around and flirting with Charlie like some perverted creep._Good riddance_. I thought.

Besides Charlie and me, there were three other Patrol Officers.

There was Chuck, a generally nice, yet jumpy writer-type who tended to keep to himself.

Next there was Balthazar, the kinky European mutt who has more sexual innuendos than motivation to work.

And finally we have our rookie Samandriel. He was timid but sweet.

I remembered suddenly Gabriel's request to personally deliver reports to him. I stood and retrieved the folder, and walked briskly over to the up-scaled cubicle Gabe had the pleasure of occupying.

He was sitting back in his chair, feet on the desk, a doughnut crammed in his mouth.

"Eyh lih' bo." He muffled and I blinked my lack of recognition.

He chewed and swallowed before he spoke again.

"Hey lil bro!" He repeated.

Oh right, I forgot to mention the fact that I was related to everyone in the station besides Chuck, Charlie, and Crowley.

Michael, Gabriel, Balthazar and Samandriel were my brothers. In that order. Me being after Gabe but before Balthazar.

We had two sisters, Naomi was the oldest, and Ana was older than me but younger than Gabe.

Zachariah was our uncle, who married a dark-skinned woman and had two boys, Raphael and the younger Uriel. We all loathed that side of the family in general.

Our parents are Amelia and James Novak. They're devout Christians who named all their children after angels. It runs in the family, considering our cousins.

Although we all look a bit different, Michael and I get our hair from our dad. But everyone says I look just like dad, especially when he was my age.

That always hurt.

Samandriel and Gabe had blonde hair when they were younger, like mom, but it faded to a mellow brown when they got older. And both Nomi and Ana liked to dye their naturally brown hair red tones.

Mom would have thought it rash, but she wasn't around anymore to vocalize it.

Neither was my father.

He disappeared when I was only eleven, which I think is what pushed us all to become cops. Because we didn't want anyone else to go through what we did.

We wanted to help people.

Mom remarried when I was fifteen. His name was Metatron. He was also named after an angel, but I think a more fitting name for him would have been Lucifer.

He was a disgusting pig of a man who stole from me things I'll never forget nor forgive.

He loomed over my family like a black cloud and I hated him for it.

He died the night of my eighteenth birthday when he tried to _abuse_ me.

It was ruled self-defense.

But I found he had already beaten my mother so badly she didn't live long enough for them to even begin to try to revive her. She expired in my arms and I can remember the look in her eyes as she said...

"Hey…Cassie?" Gabriel's voice brought me back, and by the look he gave me, my face was pale and I accutely aware of the sweat on my brow.

"Hi..sorry." I coughed to cover up my momentary...or however long, black out.

"Yeah." He said, taking another bite of his doughnut.

"Gabe?" I asked deliberately, trying not to pester him.

"I already told you, bro, your chances are good if you quit pestering me." He sighed, flipping through the report almost idly.

"Got anything you'd like me to do..?" I trailed off.

He rolled his eyes and just as he was about to answer the phone rang.

He answered it, and nodded slowly. "Yes, thanks Becky."

It sounded as if the dispatch girl was going to continue but he hung up before she could even try.

He raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Sounds like we got some drunken assholes left over from last night."

"What's going on?" I asked, glad to get my mind away from my family and the runaways in my home.

"Sounds like two older men stinkin' up the place down by Rufus's Pub. Said they'd been there since four and he can't take it anymore." Gabe jerked toward Charlie and winked. "You two go check it out, yes?"

"Gabe," I sighed.

"I know she's gay but that's just cause she's never boned my little brother!" He said almost-too-loud.

I gritted my teeth and he rolled his eyes "Whatever man, just trying to get you laid."

"Yes and a lesbian is definitely going to work out." I pulled my coat on and grabbed my keys.

"Better than another man." He said quietly under his wasn't a jibe at who I was, or what I preferred, he was rather accepting when I came out, as were most of my family, we had to stick together for the most part. But his remark was more of an excuse to lash out at me. And whenever he did this he dug deep.

I whirled around so fast my coat had trouble keeping up, my fists balled into his collar and I watched fear cross those whiskey-colored eyes for just a second.

"What did you fucking say?" I snarled into his face, spitting the words with malicious intent.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, fear gone and replaced with a mild fright. He took it too far and he knew it.

"You're a fucking dick." I growled, shoving him backward before stalking off to the door, Charlie, who had evidently been listening this whole time, followed me like a scolded puppy.

"Castiel..I'm so-" He called after me, but I didn't want to hear it.

I stepped through the door, and made my way into the car, Charlie hesitated before climbing in next to me.

"Do you w-"

"Just stop." I hissed. She did, and I hated myself for being so harsh. "Shit, Charlie it's not.."

"No..It's okay." She placed hand on my shoulder.

"Did you hear any of.." I trailed off, she smiled brokenly.

"I heard enough."

I nodded and she reached over, hugging me timidly.

"You wanna go roust some scumbags?" She asked rather cheerily considering the context.

"Hell yes." I said, feeling better knowing I'd be ridding the community of some jerks, and when I returned I could blackmail Gabe into letting me charge John Winchester, despite his missing children, he was still a nuisance and he needed to be put away.


	11. The Words Left Out

I flipped through Cas's movies with rapt interest. I muttered the titles to myself as I scanned the DVD and VHS cases.

I had just slid _Night of the Living Dead_ into the DVD player as a sleep-cracked voice broke my concentration.

"Dean." Sam said, slumping down onto the couch and rubbing his eyes. It was only six AM, Sam should've been asleep for at least another hour.

"What's wrong?" I asked, pausing the movie, knowing Sam didn't like horror movies, no matter how hard I tried to get him to watch _The Shining_ or _Child's Play_ he'd excuse himself and go study instead.

What a dweeb he was. But, _my_ little dweeb.  
I climbed on the couch next to him, waiting for him to respond.

"Just…" he paused, looking at his lap, contemplating his words.

"What, Sam?" I asked, my tone as gently as I could afford while still being the Dean Winchester he expected me to be.

"I just don't know what to do Dean." He looked up at me through his tangled brown bangs, and I saw now, his red puffy eyes and the tears on his cheeks.

I leaned forward then, pulling him against my chest just as Cas had done to me, pulling his head under my chin and rocking him.

He sobbed into me, his good arm gripping the back of my shirt, and I only held him closer, forcing away my own tears.

"Dean, what are we going to do?" He sputtered through his hiccups and gasps.

"Cas is going to take care of it…" I whispered in his ear, squeezing him once, twice, three times.

Our personal sign for 'I. Love. You.' We'd never said the words out loud to one another, mostly because it wasn't necessary. Because of everything we did for one another, the words would only seem trivial in comparison otherwise.

He squeezed the back of my shirt four times. 'I. Love. You. Too.'

I breathed into his hair, and smiled, pulling away and lifting his head to look at me.

"Guess what?" I grinned down at him and he wiped his face.

"What?"

"You stink." I chuckled as he looked mock-offended, and then checked his armpit, sniffing and pausing a moment, before he replied.

"Yeah you're right." He agreed with a small smile.

"Go get a shower, kiddo." I told him, patting his shoulder as he got up.

"Thanks Dean." He said, then hesitated. "You really think we can trust Castiel?"

I nodded, but he still seemed doubtful so I added, "…He's going to help us…I promise."

Sam half-smiled and departed.

I turned the movie back on, but Sam calling my name again stopped me.

"Hm?" I answered. He didn't answer right away, meaning that I was supposed to look at him when he spoke.

I turned around in my spot, hanging over the back of the couch.

"Do you…like him?" Sam's words were like cotton blowing in the wind, soft and docile.

But my stomach felt like what it was like to harvest cotton. Cotton had impossible seeds and the slaves who had to harvest it, would often develop callouses and their hands that would bleed frequently.

"W-what?" I choked out the words.

"…I said 'do you like him'…Castiel." He confirmed my fear and I just gulped and felt my skin get hot.

"I…I don't…know." I stammered.

Sam took half a step closer. "Dean we talked about this.."

"Sam please.." came the pleading words, nothing more than feeble squeaks of mercy.

He stopped in his tracks, thumbed his T-shirt's hem, and said one final thing before he departed,

"I don't need you to say it to know how you're feeling Dean.." with a half smile, he continued. "but maybe, Cas could afford to hear it.." the smile faded away from his tear-blotted cheeks. "because I would hate to see that again."

I sat there, half stung and half lifted by my younger sibling's words.

How had he known about _that_? I never told him…and if I had…not anything of this magnitude of his knowledge.

What he was referring to, was a boy named Benard Laffite.

It had been tenth grade, and this kid, was an outcast, you know? Not terribly different, but enough to earn him a shove down in the locker room.

It had been a Friday, when we met. A few of my 'friends' had found it fitting to hide his shit in the showers, and 'accidentally' turn them on.

But you see, they hadn't realized, he wasn't going to take their shit. He gave two of the bastards black eyes, the other lost a tooth.

I grabbed his arms in a lock behind his back as they scrambled away. He tried to fight my grip, naturally, but I am proud to say I powered over him.

"Get the fuck off'a me." His thick, foreign accent snarled at me. Was it Irish? I only guessed so because of his red hair and bright blue eyes.

"Let's calm down, buddy, yeah?" I panted, releasing him and watching as he spun around to face me, ready to throw a few more punches.

I held my hands up in surrender, and watched the blaze die from his eyes, the tenseness in his muscles dwindle.

"Who're you?" He asked after a few moments, looking me over, judging his ability to fight me. I'm guessing he finally decided it was a lost cause, and spoke nice instead.

I stood fairly taller than him, and he was partly chubby, but I knew now it would be better defined as husky.

"Dean." I answered, dragging his drenched clothes from the showers, slapping them onto the bench and he just looked doubtful of my kindness.

"Yeah, I know," He said, ripping the dripping linens from my grasp and throwing them against the closest locker. "but why are you helpin' me?"

I sighed and wanted to shrug, play it cool, but I felt he deserved at least half of the truth.

"Those guys are dicks."

"Then why do you hang out with 'em?" He snapped.

"Well I feel obligated to."

"That's fucking dumb."

"I know."

He sat next to me then, staring at me with those pretty eyes.

"I noticed your Led Zeppelin shirt." I cocked my head in the direction of his soiled outfit.

He grinned then, maybe only a fragment of a smile, but a genuine pleasure found its way onto those rosy, oblong cheeks.

And that was how it began. We were best friends, he was into all the best bands and we would listen to records together in his room and he taught me so much about myself.

But I fucked it up.

He and I, through an extreme occurrence of unbelievable events, were a couple.

I couldn't tell you how it happened, because I had never in all of my life thought he'd be one to swing that way.

And thought even less so a chance of myself being gay, or bi, or whatever.

But it was nice. We never kissed or had sex or anything like that, because somehow it didn't fit with the relationship we had.

But I'm pretty sure I loved him.

But after about 6 months of us being together, I'd never told him, not once.

And he left me, because I never tried to kiss him or touch him. Because he thought I hated him but was too afraid to just say it.

I don't blame him though, it was my fault.

I should have told him.

I felt a tear bob down my chin, landing squarely on my thigh and wetting the denim there.

I wiped my face with the blanket and decided I was hungry.

I shuffled my way downstairs, ignoring the sound of Sam humming in the shower.

I found where Cas had laid out a quaint breakfast, pancakes, with sausage and eggs.

My mouth watered as I microwaved a plateful and doused it in maple syrup.

It was the most delicious meal I could remember ever having eaten.

Sam came down and whole-heartedly agreed with me as we shoveled seconds into our mouths.

Sam didn't mention Cas or Benny for the rest of the morning.

"Why aren't you dressed Dean?" He had asked instead.

"Dressed for what?"

"School, you asshat." He chortled.

"Oh." I sighed as I slid my black Checker piece into Sam's red King Row. "King me."

Sam screwed his face up in annoyance at my dodging of the question, but placed a second checker atop mine. But as he did so he took out another of my pieces, now left unguarded by the previously normal King piece.

"Well?" He pried after not receiving an answer.

I narrowed my eyes at him, "we go to school they take us back." I explained, sliding my king piece into the corner.

"But Dean, what am I going to tell Jess..ie." His response reminded me of the sound a whammy-bar makes on a guitar.

"Who's Jess-i-ie?" I mocked, watching him double-jump and take out two more of my pieces.

"Just a friend." He snapped, my king emerging from the corner to attack the piece that had just taken out three of my men.

"Uh huh.. it's a girl isn't it?"

"Shut up Dean." He slid a red piece into my Kings Row "oh and King me."

I begrudgingly placed the checker I just captured on top of his new king.

"So you like her?"

"Dean I said shut up."

"Oh come on Sam."

"Dean."

"Sammy."

"Drop it."

"Tell me, is she cute?"

"King me."

"She's blonde, isn't she."

"I said king me, Dean"

"Blue eyes and a cute butt."

"DEAN."

I looked down at the board now, where I had been moving my checkers haphazardly across the board. But now, I had not a single piece left, and I blinked in surprise.

"I want to meet her."

"I want you to King me."

I sighed, crowning the last of my captured red pieces atop of his last king. He'd won, of course.

"So am I right?"

"Dean you're being such an ass." He nearly spat at me, turning around form the board and staring at the wall.

We had been playing Checkers, and various card games since six thirty, and it was pushing nine now. We sat at Cas's kitchen table, after I had cleaned the dishes out of habit, and common courtesy.

"You're right I'm sorry but I just…I really like the idea of my little brother having a crush." I admitted, trying to reach out and playfully push his shoulder, alas, he jerked away from me.

"Sam… I'm sorry, please tell me about your friend Jessie."

He slowly turned to look at me, eyes still glaring but not untrusting.

"Her name is Jessica Moore, okay?" he answered, not looking at me as he began cleaning up the checker board.

"So.. Jess, then." He nodded. "Is she your girlfriend?" I didn't ask it in a teasing tone, as much as I wanted too, but I was afraid Sam might have smashed the checker board over my head.

"No, Dean," He snapped.

"So do you like her?"

He didn't answer.

"So what does she look like?" I pried.

"Blonde, blue eyes." He said with a growl in his tone. So I had been right!  
"Cute butt?" I teased, making him smile ever so slightly.

"She's really great Dean…" He continued. "She's not the run-of-the-mill girl."

I nodded, "Perfect for you huh?"

"She's just so smart and really pretty and I don't see why she would ever like me."

I can tell you now, that I could literally feel my heart _drop_.

How could Sam ever say that? He was the smartest kid in his class, the nicest, too, I was sure of it.

And nobody would dare lay a finger on him because the last time they even tried I'd broken the kids arm.

"Sam…" I said, my voice small and disbelieving. He wasn't ugly either, I couldn't see why he should feel the way he did.

"Dean don't start okay?" He turned to face me completely, his eyes watery and his hair still damply clinging to his forehead.

"No, Sam." I replied, reaching out and holding his dead arm, grasping the numb limb and holding his hand in mine.

"Dean." He sighed.

"Sam you're the smartest kid I know, you're a total stud and you have so much going for you I bet you this girl Jess, she likes you just as much."

"God dammit Dean I'm not you!" He violently jerked his arm away from my grasp. "I'm not some flirty fun jock kid who can get any girl he wants. I'm not popular or interesting. I'm a loser and you know it. The only reason no one says it to my face is because of you! They all hate me but are fucking afraid of what _you_ would do about it!" His self-loathing quickly transformed into anger, he stood over me now, yelling in my face.

"You always do this!" I tried to open my mouth, tell him to calm down, tell him I was sorry, tell him anything… But he cut me off.

"No, don't even try. I can't believe you sometimes Dean! I mean I love you because you're always there for me, but sometimes you're there for me too much!"

I sat there, paralyzed by Sam's lashing out. The sheer anger and bitterness inside of him, how genuinely upset he was with me.

But soon, his eyes lost their fiery wake, and he spoke softly now, barely a whisper ghosting from him,

"Sometimes…Dean, I want to take care of myself. And I think you should learn how to take care of _yourself_, as well." And he loped back up the stairs, leaving me aggrieved with his words, realizing, how right he was, but still too afraid to act on them.


	12. What the Hell is an Assbutt

I'm so sorry everyone for the late update. It was really difficult for me to write this chapter on account of me having no idea how law enforcement works. Please forgive my inaccuracy.

* * *

I didn't bother to turn the siren on, there wasn't really any point of it, It wasn't exactly an emergency, but it never hurt to turn on the lights.

Charlie and I sat in a dry silence for the trip to Rufus's. I was still hurt by my brother's bigotry, even though that isn't like him at all, and for some reason I could tell he actually was sorry, for once.

We pulled up to Rufus's bar, I parallel parked next to a beautiful looking classic car. It was glimmering black, the chrome was somewhat rusted, but it gave her character.

I was never much of a car guy, but damn was there something about that one.

As Charlie was getting out, I turned off the ignition, and nearly screamed at her to get back in.

Instead of making a scene I lashed out and grabbed her arm, jerking her so harshly back into the car, she bumped her head and nearly punched me.

Her eyes were wide with absolute disbelief at my behavior, and she looked like she was literally going to kill me.

"Charlie." I harshly whispered, suddenly realizing the connection I had with the vehicle, and the driver.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" She hissed back.

"That's him." I responded. She rolled her eyes and looked in the direction I pointed.

There on the porch, sat John Winchester.

She let out a small gasp of realization.

"What does it matter if he recognizes you?" She assumed that's why I was being so antsy.

"No, Charlie!" I called to her as she tried to leave the car again, this time pulling her entirely back into the front seat, and leaning forward to slam the door behind her.

She gave me those wide, hyper-judgemental eyes again.

She didn't even have to say the words this time. Her eyes said enough of 'What the fuck.'

"Look, okay I gotta tell you something."

"Is this really the time?" She groaned, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yes!" I barked.

"I found them." I said after a few moments silence.

Charlie's head snapped toward me, her face crooked in confusion. "Who?"

"The kids… his kids." She sat up, her face visibly lightened.

"That's great! Where?" She then looked to see if they were seated next to John. As if I'd just made the discovery.

"No, Charlie…" I held her bicep in my hand. She looked at me, eyebrows furrowed in unspoken question.

"They…they're… At my house…"

She recoiled, not as if I'd hit her, but as if she just noticed a nasty looking bug and was slowly backing away.

"Let me…let me explain." I blurted, and did just that, to my best ability.

"I found them at the motel, right?"

She nodded, numbly.

"And so, I…I found out that he abused them…John…he beats his oldest son, Dean. And Dean is…he's just…he reminds me so much of myself…he…I had to get them out of there and I….Oh god Charlie I don't know if I'm doing the right thing anymore but I can't see them go back to that motherfucker."

"So…they're at your house?" I nodded.

"Wait, how do you know this Dean kid isn't just playing you? You know using the rumors against you, making you feel bad, and right now they're robbing you of all your doilies and dvds."

"I saw…his…he's got knife wounds for fucks sake.. bruises and chunks of skin missing…In the worst spots too. He stabbed him in his thigh. Right near his fucking femoral artery…Charlie he could've died."

But Charlie didn't look the least bit concerned, instead, a giant smirk graced her sunshine face.

"What?" I nearly yelled.

"How in the _world_ do you_ know _all this, Castiel?" She teased and suddenly I realized the fault in my story telling. The part where Dean sat half nude on my floor and we kind of made out.

"Ch-charlie…I-it's my job!" I quickly tried to hide the blush in my cheeks, and the feeling in my gut at the memory of that kiss.

"O my _god_, Cassie pants!" She was giggling now. "You're boning the Winchester kid!"

"I am _NOT_!" I argued, because, that much was true, not that it didn't mean I thought about it as he rest his beautiful face right near my d-.

"You liar." Charlie teased, having gently shoved my shoulder, but I had been so distracted, I actually jerked forward, honking the horn and making Mr. Winchester himself jerk up from his drunken half-sleep and shout at us. I'm not sure what he said but it wasn't appropriate for the 8 year old twin sisters walking to the bus stop.

"Fuck." I muttered. I turned to Charlie, who was looking like she wanted to apologize, but was still grinning like an idiot.

"Look…I…I was going to charge him for a third DUI offense…put him in for a little jail time, just to get Dean and Sam out of here…"

"Yes.."

"So…I… I'm gonna need you to stay here."

"What?" She snapped. "Are you crazy?"

"Probably." I called as I slammed the door and trotted up the sidewalk to the bar.

"Fukin' gomar kindl." The drunken Winchester slurred at me.

I don't know what that meant, but whatever he was trying to say, wouldn't really have affected me likewise.

"Excuse me, sir?" I said, crouching down next to him.

"Huh?" He said, swinging his heavy head to glare at me.

"Look, now I don't want to cause any trouble…" I then took a glance at Charlie, who was internally caught between getting out of the car, and getting out of the car and strangling me.

Because at this point she realized when I'd shut the door on her earlier, I'd set the childproof lock. She couldn't get out, even though she wanted to. And she was going to kill me.

I stared back at the piece of shit excuse of a father beneath me.

The stench of whiskey on him, the grease in his hair and the dirt all over himself and his torn clothes.

"but you need to get your fat fucking ass off the fucking curb." I snarled, and it took him a minute to register I'd just insulted him.

When it did he spat in my face and tried to punch me.

I swerved out of his arm length with ease, considering he moved at turtle speed anyway.

"Put your hands behind your back you piece of horseshit." I snarled. "You are under arrest for public drunkenness." And I was hoping to hell he'd do something more for me to feel more comfortable charging him with assault of an officer.

"In't fuckin doin nuton azz bot." He answered. I snorted. What in the hell was he trying to say? Ass hole? The fuck is an ass..butt?

He garbled another skewed profanity, throwing another punch. I caught his fist, as his other came around and stabbed me in the side.

_Good. Keep fighting, you bastard. _

I wasn't bothered by his blow, but instead it only fueled me further, slipping out my handcuffs and roughly cranking them onto his fat wrists.

He continued to shout and kick in realization that he was being fucking arrested.

I forced him to stand, holding his cuffed wrists and left shoulder as I steadied him.

He might have been drunk, but he threw his weight around like an enraged bull.

I grunted and forced him against our car, Charlie watching in horror all the while.

He rambled on, struggling and shifting as I attempted to give him a pat down search. I felt a lump in his back pocket, it was probably only his keys, but you could never be too sure.

I reached down and he snarled as I reached into his pocket, fishing out a pair of car keys, and what looked to be a switchblade.

I grinned, showing the prize to Charlie, who was absolutely fuming.

"This regulation size, Mr. Winchester?" I asked, stuffing it into my pocket for later inspection.

The keys, I placed in my breast pocket.

"Duck your head." I ordered, opening the back door and shoving him into the car.

As I reached down to tuck his head, he punched his skull forward, knocking into my nose.

I winced as that dull throbbing, broken feeling set into my nose almost immediately.

He tried to get up then, to run, I'm guessing. But I grabbed his shoulder, and shoved him back into the seat, slamming the door in his disgusting face.

I wiped my face, finding blood dripping from my nose.

I climbed into the front, Charlie grabbing my hand and squeezing it, not for reassurance, instead to say, "If he didn't break your nose, I'm going to."

"You can add assault of an officer to your charges, Mr. Winchester." I said, glancing at his malice-filled face in the rearview mirror.

He muttered something unintelligible.

I just smiled at him.

_Got you now, assbutt. _


	13. Run For Your Life

Thank you so much everyone for your suggestions and comments of encouragement. I think I was feeling a bit apprehensive on top of my writers block that, maybe nobody even really liked this story. But you all proved me wrong and I think this is some of the writing I've produced in a few chapters. Thank you, so much. I love all of you guys 3 xoxo

* * *

I ran recklessly down the sidewalk, my legs moving as fast they could, the blood pounding in my ears, throbbing in my legs with each strained pump of each limb. I felt my heart beating inside my throat, which was becoming increasingly dry by each second.

My footsteps pounded against the concrete like a wild mustang's chipped hooves. My mind raced just as fast, if not faster.

As I ran I began to feel that sensation of floating, like your legs detach from your body and you're uncatchable to anything or anyone around you. You have no way to stop unless you hit something.

I was moving so fast the atmosphere around me became a blur of whizzing colors and cheap lights.

The old concrete almost felt as if it were tearing under my feet, the friction from each step simply too much, it seemed as if I'd began to leave streaks of flame behind me.

I couldn't stop, no matter how many strange looks or how much my chest began to hurt, I couldn't stop.

Sammy was gone.

I went up to check on him, apologize, but he was gone.

I had thrown up in Cas's toilet at least twice, screamed my lungs out, and I still felt the urge to scream some more, despite how ripped up and raw my throat felt.

There was nothing that would stop me though. All I knew was I had to find Cas. I needed his help. We had to find Sam, because God knows what could be happening to him.

I knew where the station was, of course. But getting there on foot was, well, insanity.

I had passed the school a few minutes back, stopping only long enough to decide that yes, that was Sam's school.

It had been let out about 45 minutes ago and the only trace of such was the sight of the lonely crossing guard discarding her neon reflective vest.

I kept moving, a cramp crawling its way into my abdomen. I hissed away the twisting muscles and kept moving, as if I was stronger now, inspired by my body's attempt to dishearten me.

_Keep moving. _

I growled instead.

The Police Station was only another minute from here by car, and I was sure I could make it in just that.

But despite all of my bravado champion racing bull shit, I really felt like shit.

Sam left

Or was _taken_ (No matter how hard the two parts of my brain fought over that one I had to think the worst)

And it was my fault and if something happened to him I honestly, didn't know what I would do.

What purpose would I have if it didn't mean protecting Sam?

What else had I done all my life?

Despite how fond I was of Cas, my likeness for him wouldn't exist without Sam.

In other words, I love my little brother.

I can't let him get hurt. _Not any more than he should,_ I reminded myself. Because sometimes it was okay to be hurt.

And maybe it took my until today to realize it, but I understood now more than ever.

And I would respect his wishes of taking care of himself, or at least try…as soon as we found him.

_We're gonna find him. _

Finally, I could see the Police Station in view. Outside stood an officer smoking a cigarette. He was short, with curly blonde hair, and a few too many buttons undone on his uniform.

His jaw dropped as he saw me pounding up the street, dripping with sweat, despite the cold, which I hadn't even noticed until I watched his breath ghost from his open maw.

I thought it was smoke at first, and then I realized I was freezing. I couldn't feel my toes and the weightless feeling was actually my legs beginning to turn numb.

He didn't recognize me. He watched me race down the street, breathless and in nothing but jeans and a T-shirt.

I realized then why I got so many dirty looks.

I realized then, I perhaps, was a bit overbearing over Sam.

"Eh kid!" He shouted, waving at me. He had stomped out his cigarette and opened the door to the station, shouting inside about some crazy kid.

"No, please, officer I need to see a Mr. Castiel…" I panted, skidding to a stop just in front of the quaint building.

"Yes, yeah, whatever but you better get some clothes on, kid…you're going to freeze your balls off." His thick European accent added quite a comical effect to his words.

I tried my best not to laugh, but needed nothing else than to watch as four or five other police officers rushed out, shouting things about the Winchester kid. I watched a cute red-head peek through the crowd, her eyes blown wide. A hand clapped over her mouth, she turned to shout "CASTIEL!"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. They all got closer, a tall man with dark hair and brown eyes wrapped me in what seemed like a shock blanket. And then I saw him, Cas popped his head up through the crowd, shoving through and calling a quiet to the mumbling officers. Even those who were undoubtedly higher up than him, hence their suits in place of uniforms.

"Everyone quite!" He snarled, shuffling over to me, absolute shock in those icy blues.

"Cas…" I whispered, feeling the magnitude of what I'd just compromised by coming here, boiling up in my stomach, on top of Sam and my dad and everything else going on,

I wanted to throw up again.

I did.

Everyone stepped back in one simultaneous leap that I could testify was choreographed, somehow.

"Kid are you okay?" The red head asked. "Dean? Your name is Dean yeah?" We were inside now, everyone was murmuring and Cas was currently trapped in a private office. My stomach flipped over and over again, except this time I had nothing left to throw up.

And to think, Cas had made such a great meal, only for me to project it all over his colleagues shoes.

I nodded very weakly.

"Charlie." She said with a smile too bright for my current mood. Although it was a rather grim smile, to be honest.

"I need to find my brother." I groaned.

"The funny thing about that is, we've been looking for you."

"I know."

"Well, do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"That's okay."

Nothing more was spoken until Cas emerged from Captain Michael's office. He was the man who had put the blanket on me.

His face was slightly pale, but there was something in his eyes that said he had just gained a small victory. The short man who had first spotted me practically dragged himself out with the Lieutenant, their tails between their legs.

I felt a small weight lift from my shoulders.

"Cas…" I whispered, and he just smiled, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me from my seat.

"It's okay, Sammy's gonna be okay. You're okay." He murmured, squeezing me with such fervor I almost questioned it. Almost.

"You don't know that." I whimpered back, "We need to find him."

Cas released me, letting my feet fully connect with the ground again, a sweet smile that could warm every single one of my toes, swallowing the majority of his face.

"Dean.." Was all he said, and I could only watch as he took me toward the front desk, and I thought he was going to sit me down or maybe make me fill out some paper work, but instead he made a sharp turn, pulling me into an interrogation room.

My heart dropped, and I felt it pump inside my boots. I blinked, once, twice.

There, at the silver table, sat two people, a young girl, with blonde hair and blue eyes and a sweet mole in the middle of her eyebrows, the other person,

"Sam?" I breathed, meanwhile tears of joy and winded relief cloud my vision.


	14. Let's Make A Deal

****Several Hours Earlier****

Castiel's POV

"Alright, so what do we have here?" Gabe asked, sticking a cherry tootsie pop into his mouth.  
"John Winchester." Charlie said, taking a clipboard from the front desk and following myself, Gabe, and the nosy Balthazar around to the holding cells.

"He decided to give Cas a nasty bloody nose." Balthazar asked, well, half-asked, half-sneered.  
"Oh shut up, you should be writing that report on the burglaries downtown." Gabriel snapped back to his younger brother. This was his way of saying 'I'm sorry' to me.  
Balthazar contemplated making another remark, thought better of it, and left with a sneer on his lips.  
"I can stick up for myself, thanks." I said, taking the drowsy, confused Winchester and removing his cuffs as he sat him in a cell.  
The graying older man let out a string of insults, that I couldn't even being to decipher.  
"So, what happened?" Gabe asked with a raised brow, the stick of his lollipop comically jutting out from the side of his mouth. While the candy itself created a bulge in his cheek.

"Well um," Charlie was already starting the report, penning in badge numbers and dates. My palms grew sweaty as I realized what I'd done to her.

"G-gabe.." I let out the small sound, clenching my clammy fists and watching every minuscule movement he made. A small flick of his thumb against his collar, the tiny adjustment he made to his belt. He plucked the lollipop from his mouth with a wet 'pop' and his head tilted to the side.  
"What's up?" He asked.

Charlie was looking up now, her eyes wide and regretful. She knew what I'd done was annoying and wrong, but had she really expected me to tell anyone about it? What if I'd gotten really hurt? Or what if he'd gotten away?  
I dismissed the latter on account of the drunk man's inability to walk correctly let alone run.  
"I…um…I have to talk to you."  
"Okay…" Gabe said, shaking his head and opening his mouth ever so slightly. As if the statement was an obvious one.  
"Privately." I added and his face turned to stone, and he threw the tootsie pop into the closest trash can.

I followed him into Captain Michael's office. Michael looked up from his desk where he was sorting through case files.  
"You owe me twenty bucks." Gabriel sassed, grinning a mile wide. I stared at him in disbelief. He was betting on me? _Betting on what?!_

"No way." Michael said, stepping from his desk and crossing toward me.  
""No way" what?! What are you two going on about?"  
"I bet him you were boning the Winchester kid."

My face grew bright red, and I felt the sudden urge to both puke and punch Gabriel simultaneously.  
"_W-what_?! What are you even talking about? How in the hell do you even get that?" I stammered out.  
"Oh come on little brother, you're so transparent." Michael cooed, taking a seat in one of the couches provided for visitors.  
"No! that doesn't even make any sense. How on earth did you even know…?" I took a seat beside him, feeling the breath punched from my lungs. I felt terrible, and I felt played. there was no use fighting the accusations, since they were, indeed true. Had they known since, since what? When I found them?  
"Just…would you two please for the love of God tell me how the fuck you knew I had them." And then I realized his initial accusation. They never said I had them, they simply said.. "Hold on, you piece of shit I'm _not having sex_ with him!"

"Really? That's a shame. You thought about it though." Gabe chimed, taking his seat in the chair cross from us. "You thought about it though."

"I did no- UGH. I hate you. Both of you." I threw my head in my hands. They were terrible. I hated them. But god dammit was I really that transparent?

"Look, it was all in the police report you sent in." Michael said, motioning for Gabe to retrieve it from its place on his desk.  
"What about it?" I snapped.

"It's not you Cassie-face." Gabe spoke, flipping through the pages. I'd written the report when I'd woken up (Next to Dean) and emailed it in. Otherwise they'd be worried about me.

"It's written all wrong." Michael said, finding a particular spot he liked and pointing to the words, already highlighted in translucent yellow ink.  
It was at the top of the page where I addressed what I was doing that night. In that case, searching a motel for the Winchesters.  
"Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester." Gabe said aloud as if it were amusing to him.

"What about it, you may ask?" Michael teased.

Gabe got up, and sat next to me instead, whispering to me, "We told you his name was Samuel."

My heart dropped. How could I be so naïve.

"You also broke all your contractions, which tells me you were being extra careful."  
And I looked at the pages of my own writing, watching as Michael flipped through. Spots of yellow ink marking each broken contraction.  
"You assumed I was having sex with him." I snapped. "How in the hell did you figure that?"

"Well we might have had a patrolman follow you…"  
"Follow me? I sent that in at 5 AM, how in the hell did you already know?"

"Oh no, well we had a black and white trail you from the motel. We figured you'd find them there, he was supposed to be for backup but you ended up not needing that, huh?"

"What in the hell is wrong with you?!" I groaned audibly, slouching back into the couch. They were my older brother's, and I loved them, but fuck if they weren't always a big back of dicks.  
"Well just be glad that motel has no security camera." Gabe snapped. "Otherwise you'd be in deep shit, you know that?"

"Yeah I know. So why are you two treating it like some game?"  
"Look, Castiel," Michael said, "we think what you're doing is right. John Winchester is obviously an abusive father…" His eyes flickered to Gabriel, who was looking away now.

"We know…you're trying to help him…because you can relate."

I didn't know what to say. It was true. That was exactly what I was doing.

"But we can relate too." Gabe said, his voice low, and steady.

"So we think it's in everyone's best interest, if you keep doing what you're doing…"

His eyes held me in place, then. The dull memories he held inside, what he remembered from when we were younger.

"Yessir." I smiled weakly, and he nodded in response.

"But you still owe me twenty." Gabe broke in, a smile on his face, but darkness in his eyes.

"I owe you nothing! He said they never had sex."

"Oh come on." Gabe rolled his eyes, and unwrapped a Jolly Rancher.  
The prodding into my personal life was cut abruptly short when Charlie came rushing in.

"We have a situation!" She gasped, blood on her hands and fright in her eyes.

_Shit._

Gabriel and Michael rushed through the door before I got the chance.  
I followed as quickly as I could into the lobby, where Charlie was headed.

I knew it was too late to ask what was going on.

The second my foot rounded the corner, my eyes falling on the scene before me, everything felt like it was slow motion. Some part of me believed it, and the other half thought it was just some crazy nightmare.

In the middle of the lobby stood two teenagers, blood wasn't exactly 'everywhere', but there was enough to make me nervous.

But as the boy looked up, that made me really, really, really nervous.

"Sam?" I breathed, the words not reaching anyone around me, but he saw my mouth make the word. His name.

My mind went whizzing through all the possible scenarios;

Who's blood was that if neither one of them was bleeding?

But the most alarming thing was, where was Dean if Sam was here?


	15. I Didn't Know Rapunzel Wore Plaid

I think this is our first look into Sam's POV. We get to see into his head for once. Also This is my second update in the past 24 hours! I think my writers block is finally over. Enjoy!

* * *

***Even Earlier***

Sam's POV

I was so tired of Dean bossing me around. I had just stormed upstairs, and instantly I regretted it.  
The only thing up here were mine and Dean's bag of clothes. Dean had brought our other stuff downstairs to see if we had anything to play with.  
I sighed and flopped down on the spare bed Castiel had.  
"Sam?" I heard Dean's voice from the bottom of the stairs.  
"No. Go away." I shouted back. I wasn't in the mood for this. I mean, yeah what he did was all good intentioned but god was he annoying sometimes.  
"Sam, come on.. I just found Parcheesi!" My heart pounded with excitement. That was my favorite game.  
"…The original or the new one?"  
"Original."

"I…Mmm. No, Dean please just leave me alone."

"…Sammy." Was all he said before I heard his footsteps trail away. He turned on the TV downstairs.  
He was always trying to protect me from this and that. Maybe it was because of my arm, maybe it was because of his own disability.  
And no, Dean didn't have anything wrong with him. He was strong and fit, and he could run for miles, do at least a hundred pushups, pulls ups, crunches. He could bench press at least 200, I'm not sure if it was the same now. But Dean had a weak self-esteem.  
Not that he didn't think he was attractive, because if he didn't that would be a huge problem considering he was the heartthrob of every girl at our school.  
But he didn't think he was good enough. For anything. He always had to do more or be more.  
But he still didn't feel good enough. And so I think one day he found that helping me, protecting me made him feel good.  
But what he never, and still hasn't realized is that, it's making me feel worthless.

I feel like I can't do anything, I can't even begin to amount to what Dean has done in my place.  
The worst part of it is that what I told Dean that day, was only the tip of the iceberg.  
There was so much more I wanted to say, but I couldn't.

Dean needed something to look after. Something to take care of and maintain.  
I was all he ever had.  
And he would always take care of me, and forget to take care of himself.  
But maybe now, he had someone else to watch over him.  
Castiel.  
Although I hadn't been around him much, there was something so pure and good-intentioned about him.  
He wanted t help, and I knew this because he acted exactly the way Dean does when he's trying very hard not to bother me.  
But the fact that Dean couldn't see that at first, was a red flag.  
Had Dean really been so clouded by bad people in his life that he couldn't tell the good from the bad anymore?  
Well, I mean, that was how he acted back in the motel, at least for a good bit.  
I might have been awake the whole time.  
But I'd never seen Dean put his guard down like that to anyone.  
He let Castiel comfort him in ways I never could. I was the one to be comforted not the other way around.

It could have been an age thing. But I'm almost positive it's not. I think it's just the way that Cas can get under Dean's skin.  
Maybe it was just because Dean had a major crush on Cas.  
Or both.  
Yeah, probably both.  
It wasn't completely obvious at first.  
Oh wait. Yes, it really was.  
Dean had only been with another guy, at least to my knowledge, once before.  
But there was something so monumentally different in everything Dean said or did around this guy, it was impossible for Dean not to have feelings for him.  
I mean the two idiots slept together.  
In short, Cas was good for Dean.  
And Dean was starting to realize some important things about himself and his life.  
And this gave me hope for Dean actually coming to terms with the fact that I couldn't always have him peeking over my shouldering in life.

I sat in bed pondering all this when I heard a tap on my window. I first thought nothing of it, just a twig or a bug.  
But it came again, and again.  
I lifted myself off the bed, and pulled the curtains aside to look.  
To my eminent surprise I found a short girl with a handful of rocks. Jessica.  
What in the hell was she doing here? Wasn't there school? How did she find me?  
I carefully opened the window, and called to her, without being loud enough for Dean to hear.  
"What the hell?" Was all I could say. She was insane. It was beautiful on her.  
"I'm here to rescue you, Rapunzel." She said, grinning and opening up her arms. "Let down your hair."  
"Are you _crazy_?"  
"Possibly." She giggled, picking up another rock and tossing it for my head.  
I ducked out of view, the rock landing in the middle of the room.

"Jess!" I hissed, "How did you find me?"  
"Come down and I'll tell you!"  
"I can't…my broth… Dean is downstairs."

She looked confused. "Uh…yeah. Come down."

She meant through the window, didn't she?

"Jess I don't think I can."  
"Oh come on, don't be a baby."  
"Okay, okay hold on a minute."  
It was January, and it was cold. Jess had to be wearing at least two layers under her North Face jacket.  
I could risk getting caught going to get my coat…but I decided against it. Dean would hear me for sure.  
"I know.." I whispered to myself, and reached into my bag, pulling out all the t-shirts, and button-up shirts I had.  
I put on two extra T-shirts, a plaid button up, and Dean's navy blue windbreaker. I was getting hot just being in the house.  
I had to admit it was a bit of a struggle to get the multiple layers on all by myself, but I did it.  
While all of my own clothes had long been sewed to fit my arm 'stub' (it had been stunted in growth, and was much smaller than my other arm, although it was a full arm), Dean's jacket was not.  
And as I caught a glimpse of myself in the closet mirror, the only full length mirror I'd ever seen outside of a department store, I felt a pang of yearning.  
I had lived so long without use of my arm, it hadn't seemed different until this moment. Where I saw what it would look like, if I had it.  
I didn't look different. With one sleeve always pinned up, or sometimes I wore an arm brace, the ones where it holds on your opposite shoulder.  
And I felt like it was temporary then.  
Until then I hadn't imagined what life could be like with two arms.

Another rock hit the window.

"Shit." I muttered, ruffling around the room to make sure I had everything.  
I didn't really have much else.  
I made my way over to the window again, and took a deep breath before opening it.

I was on the second floor, and I was going to jump out.  
And then I recalled just yesterday that I'd jumped from the roof of our house to the ground and made it out quite alright.

"Okay." I breathed in through my nose, and out through my mouth.  
"Hurry up! We don't have much time." Jessica called. _Time for what?_

"Okay.." I said.  
I vaulted my leg over the outside of the window, and held onto the ledge  
Shit, how was I going to close the window behind me.  
I could try and get enough momentum to swing my bad arm up…but, no.. the balance would rock me off the ledge.  
"Jess, you got string?" I asked.

"String?" She snapped "What for?"  
"Just answer me, got it or not?"  
although I was facing the house, I could imagine her offended face. I never spoke to her with any hint of authority. Until now.  
"I got some thread from my jacket." She answered.

"Perfect! Hand it to me."

"How?" She sneered.

I shifted slightly to look at her, where she was holding a piece of lose thread, only about a foot long, that was still attached to her jacket.  
"Um…pull it out more."

"Okay." She answered, and began to unravel her coat.  
Then she tried to break it. The thread was strong, and as she wrapped her hands around it, I got an idea.

"No wait, just leave it!"

"What?"

"Leave it attached! Just…let go of it. The wind will bring it up to me."

The string was long enough for three stories at this point, but as she let it go it just laid to the ground in a small pile.

"Sam it's not working." She sighed. "It won't hold your big ass anyway."

I rolled my eyes. She was small for average, and I was tall. It was always interesting hearing her new insults.

"It isn't supposed to hold me."

"Then what's it for?" She sounded annoyed now.

"I need to close the window."

She looked like she was ready to punch me, but said nothing more.

I waited, feeling a gust of wind come this way. Perfect, I thought as it lifted the string, and the further up it went, the stronger the wind was.

It swerved and jerked in the multiple gusts of wind.

I was at the perfect height, but it was so out of reach I worried this wasn't going to work.

Until Jess stepped closer, it jerked downward, and made my heart skip a beat.  
But just as quickly it bobbed up again, this time just within reach if I reached out and..

Hooking my foot against the inside wall, I leaned over to catch the string.

It danced around my fingers and just as I feared I was going to fall, I caught it.

I rushed back so quickly I bumped my head into the window.

I heard Jess laughing in my direction._ Haha._

I tethered the string to the window sill, and tested its strength. It held perfectly fine, and Cas had nice windows, not stuck by paint or grime like ours back at home.

"Okay. I'm coming down." I called to Jess, and she stepped back, enough to get out fo my way, but not pulling on the string.  
I swung my other leg out, and dropped, parallel with the house, but pushed off just enough not to smash my teeth on siding.

I bent my knees as I hit the ground. I was proud of myself, but didn't say anything to Jess. She'd think it was funny. She'd laugh.

Dean might hear her. We had to hurry.

"Okay, string."

"What string?" Jessica teased.

I mocked her with fake laughter and tugged on the string.

The window slid shut with a muffled 'thud.'

I grinned in victory.

"Where are we going?" I turned and asked the shorter girl.

"Someplace neat." She said, and bit the string free.

"Ah, of course." I snorted, "So how did you find me?" We began walking down the slope that Cas's house sat upon.

"Well I figured Dean would take you someplace stable, but not too obvious." She explained, reaching into her pockets and pulling out a pair of gloves. She offered me the left one.

"Thanks." I grinned and put it on with my teeth. "And so you looked at the motel?"

"Yeah." She said. "That kid Andy, he works there with his dad."

"Right, right."

"So I asked him if you were there." She then looked at him with her eyes narrowed, lips pursed. She was going to either tease him, or poke him. "He told me a cop came for you, and I said 'Oh boy how did they find cuffs big enough for your giant antlers."

"I am not a moose!" I laughed, "You're just tiny."

"Oh shut up you know you're bigger than normal."

"Yeah but why can't I get a normal nickname? Why the hell moose?"

"Because mooses…moose…mee- Hm. Hey Sam what's the plural of moose?"

"Moose."

"Because _moose _are also cute." She said, her eyes watching the sky.

"Cute?" I asked, a blush rising on my cheeks.

She looked at me then, her cheeks bright red, probably because of the wind. "Yeah dummy, you're cute."

I didn't know what to say, so I just gushed, looking down at my gloved hand.

"Well, anyway," She continued, "Andy told me a cop came but there was nothing in the news or any report they'd found you guys. So I figured that meant they didn't get you."

"So what? You went through your mental list of all the cops you know?" I scoffed.

"No, I went down and asked them."

"You what?!"

"Yeah."

"Did you.. see Castiel?"

"No. He was out, I dealt with the Lieutenant. He thought I was funny so he told me you guys would probably be with a guy named Castiel."

"What do you mean?" I stammered "You mean they know we're here?"

"Yeah apparently."

"Oh no…Jess I have to go back, I have to tell Dean." I turned, and she grabbed my bad arm to stop me.

"Sam, no." She said firmly, "If they wanted to find you they would have done it already…please Sam stay."

I pondered her argument. It made sense, but I started to feel bad for leaving the house. Dean would be worried sick.

But maybe it would be good for him.

"Okay, I'll stay." I turned around, and she began skipping with excitement.

_What's the worst that could happen?_


	16. Chief Who?

Dean's POV

I watched in what felt like slow-motion, my aching bones and reddened skin forgotten as I stepped toward my brother, throwing my arms around him and squeezing him tightly.

"Oh Sam." I sighed, breathing in his teenage smell and the lingering contaminant of Jessica's own scent.

"Dean I-.." He pulled away from my grip, and looked up at me with his biggest puppy dog eyes. His hazel eyes twinkling as he frowned up at me. "I'm so sorry."

"Where did you go? What happened?"

"Dean," Cas nearly coughed my name. I looked at him before Sam could continue. "I need you to come with me, now." He said with a forced smile. Oh right. Now everyone knew about us, or at least had to suspect Cas was withholding information.

But if he was in trouble would he really have been smiling like an idiot just two minutes ago?

As curious as I was to know about Sam, I knew there was no arguing with Castiel. Not right now.

"Alright.." I answered in a smooth tone, turning to Sam and patting his head. "I'll be right back."

"See you soon." Sam gave a small wave, and retreated to the table.

Castiel led me out, and took me back to a large boxed-in office space. With windows covered in shut blinds and tacky curtains. The name plate read "Chief Fergus Crowley"

I stood up straighter, fixed my shirt, absent-mindedly touched my hair. This couldn't be good.

Cas opened the door, and let me in first. Inside sat the short man, with long brown hair. He was the Lieutenant, I discovered, noticing his badge. The other man looked like an older Castiel. Only with brown eyes instead of blue. He was the Captain. Michael, apparently.

And the portly man dressed in an expensive black suit, and silk red tie, was the Chief of Police.

"Hello, boys." He greeted with a devilish grin. He idly ran his hands along his desk, staring right at me, his eyes dancing with a type of mischief I couldn't explain.

Castiel sat down, and I quickly took after him, afraid if I stood much longer my legs would melt. Mostly from all the running, but also because of how uncomfortable Chief Crowley was making me.

"Right then," He said, taking a seat himself and staring at each and every one of the officers, in turn they dipped their heads and didn't make eye contact.

I did the same as he looked upon me.

"So, you, there Mary Legs, you must be Dean, yes?"

"Y-es sir.." I answered shakily. Cas rested his hand on my shuddering knee, stopping it from bouncing.

I hadn't noticed it was shaking.

Crowley didn't miss it.

"And you, Castiel. The world is, you and Dean are somewhat of a Romeo and Juliet now, eh?" He chuckled at himself, Cas said nothing but I watched his face turn beet red.

"Right so why don't we get down to the chase?" He kicked his feet up onto his desk, and leaned back in his chair. "Why is it Dean-o here hasn't been found until today?" He scanned the room, "Anyone?"

Michael lifted his head, "It's what we thought was right, sir." He answered with a surprising amount of leverage in his tone.

"Right?!" He snarled, banging his fist into the table. "You think just because his daddy's an alcoholic it's _right_ to keep him hidden?!"

Michael slithered back into his seat and said nothing.

Crowley continued. "I have all sorts of media running up my ass on this one. The public is eating this story up. Nothing ever happens here. Until two little boys decide to run away from home. Within two days. Just two days, _everyone_ in this whole bloody town is looking for them. You'd think they'd have found them, where the hell could two kids have gone, right? Well how about right under our stinking noses!"

Crowley pointed at Castiel, his voice rising. "This idiot could cost us lawsuits, upon lawsuits! Just one missed protocol, just one tiny slip of information and we are toast! We all lose our jobs and your precious family hierarchy goes to dust!" He panted, his eyes blown wide with anger, and then, it was gone. All of it, with a single blink and lick of his lips. It was as if he'd never said any of it.

"But the problem is, I agree with what you've done."

Heads jerked up to look at him.

He wiped his hand across his forehead, squeezing the space between his eyebrows.

"John Winchester is an unfit parent, to say the least. He deserves to be locked up, and you," He looked directly at me "and your brother deserve a safe place to call home."

"Thank you.." I said quietly, folding my hands in my lap.

"Until we can get Mr. Winchester transferred to a more secure prison, at least until his hearing, you and Sam will remain lost." His eyes searched for disagreement within the men in the room.

"You will stay with Officer Castiel until legal arrangements can be made. Is that clear?" He asked, looking directly at Cas.

"Yes sir." Castiel answered, barely hiding the grin creeping up on his face.

"Good. Now keep quite. All of you. Tell the other officers that not a word of this leaks out. Anywhere."

"But, Crowley?" I asked, and he turned to me, amusement flashing in his eyes.

"Hm?"

"I ran here…people were looking at me.."

"Well they won't be able to trace you. Just don't do it again." He snorted, mostly making fun of me.

"Now, get out."

The Lieutenant, and Captain left without a word. I followed. I was headed for the interrogation room, to meet back up with Sam, when a pair of hot, large hands held onto my arm and drug me in the opposite direction.


	17. Did Someone Say Bathroom Sex?

Alrighty kids, I know a lot of you have probably been waiting for some sort of sex scene...so here's a little present for you.

* * *

Castiel's POV

I couldn't believe my ears. Chief Crowley had actually said that I could keep Dean.

_Keep Dean?_ Well, it isn't like he's a lost puppy, but Sam and Dean could stay with me. At least for a bit longer.

To be honest, I think I was so lonely before. No one to share my horror collection with. No one to cook breakfast for. No one to watch my TV or hog all the blankets.

Not that Dean hogged the blankets. He just kind of rolled a lot in his sleep, coiling the blankets around him like a poised spring.

And there would be more of that to come. I felt my heart thrum and my mind race with utter excitement and glee. I had nothing to hide anymore.

I could actually feel good about what I was doing to help Dean, without all that excess guilt.

I watched as the 18-year-old runaway departed the room. The way his hips buckled minutely, with every step of his crooked bowlegs.

His ass bobbed in his worn jeans, his shoulders bent back with the muscles in his arms.

His tall, thick body moving like a snake through desert sand.

And then I realized I had gotten so excited over the idea of spending more time with the brothers I'd actually gotten a hard-on.

Like sometimes when tweens get really excited the just can't help but get hard. It just sort of happens.

But I am no 11 year old boy. However, I couldn't help but feel even more adrenaline pump through my body as I thought of Dean and I together at night, in my bed, I'd lay him down and…

_Fuck._

I may have underestimated the surge of wanton that comes with an excitement boner.

I was so blown out and enthralled I ran after Dean, snatching his elbow in my hands and snatching him away, pulling him toward the bathroom.

He yipped at first, spinning around to find who had a hold of him.

He noticed it was me, and laughed.

Then he saw my expression and began to sweat.

He gulped as I pressed him against the bathroom wall, staring into his eyes without a word being exchanged.

His eyes searched all over me, scanning with a mixture of confusion and full-out exhilaration. He licked his lips and his eyes fell on the bulge of my erection inside my work pants.

"Jesus, Cas.." He breathed, his fingers curling into the front of my shirt. His fingertips digging against my breastplate.

"I don't know what's wrong with me." I chuckled out, shaking with my own breath. He looked up at me, his pupils swollen around those green pools.

"What happened earlier?" He asked, his hand travelling down my body, a touch of fright hitting his face as he touched the cool buckle of my belt.

"Earlier when?" I shuddered out, placing my hands on either side of him to steady myself. He seemed even smaller now, he may have been physically shorter, but in build he had me beat. He was muscular and broad-shouldered. I was fit more like a track runner.

His fingers closed around the buckle, stilling there, my stomach churning from every ounce of his touch.

"When you went to the Captain's office earlier." Dean gently pulled me closer by my waist, his other hand meanwhile unknowingly crushing my chest against his knuckles.

"Oh," I answered, letting my body hover just above his, staring down into his eyes and smiling, because that conference had gone very well.

"It was just, well they had figured out about you and your brother before you came here. Before Sam did." My words came out in small puffs of air, trying to be quiet and already being too horny to really use any energy elsewhere.

"Why is Sam here?" He asked, equally as hushed. I just smiled at him and let my hips fall down, just an inch more, my own erection gliding down against Dean's hip, bumping into his hand that rest on my belt. He simply hissed, sucking in air through his teeth.

"It's nothing," I pulled my hips back up, letting him feel me against him once more. "to worry about."

He sighed and pulled his other hand around my shoulders, his forearm bracing against my back.

"so earlier." He said, trying to keep his mind away from the fact that he was growing hard in his own jeans.

"It was just that those guys, Dean, are my brothers. That's what Crowley was talking about 'family hierarchy.' They made a bet on me. They'd had it figured out since the beginning. But they both lost." I explained, taking my hand and taking one of Dean's legs, hiking it up around my hip, permitting me access to his yearning cock.

He nodded, biting his lip and stitching his eyebrows together. He heard nothing of what I said. Well, he heard the words but he was too distracted to really focus on them just now.

"Cas." Was all he said, as my lips met with the warm skin on his neck. He let his head fall back, showing off the thick muscles in his throat just dying to be marked and sucked.

I couldn't help but find all of this a bit soon. I mean, Dean was just this boy I was supposed to take care of. What was I doing holding him against a bathroom wall?

I stopped for a moment, because I had acted on a complete impulse, preying on Dean like some perverted, desperate asshole.

He looked up at me, his eyes somewhat lidded, his hair tussled against the tiles, a bead of sweat forming in the place between his clavicle.

"What's wrong?" He asked, with a sleepy-sounding voice.

"I feel wrong.." was all I could say.

He was quiet for a few seconds after that. However, the strain in his pants didn't seem to dull.

"Why?"

"I feel like I'm taking advantage of you." I said, unable to look into those eyes.

He laughed then, scoffed and threw both arms around my shoulders, forcing me closer, forcing me to look into his face, his smiling beautiful face.

"Cas if you were taking advantage of me, and I didn't _want_ you to, you think I'd just sit here and take it?" His grin sparkled like a thousand diamonds, his eyes the emeralds to match.

"I suppose not." I couldn't help but smile back at that beautiful man.

"Then go ahead." He said, his other leg popping up, hooking around my hips and dragging me directly against his swelling dick.

I stuttered, using one arm to hold up his legs, by folding under his ass, and the other braced against the wall behind him, I leaned forward, and we kissed.

One of the most common of the silent acts to show consent.

His warm mouth pulled me in. Although I was pretty sure he'd never had sex with another guy, he was no stranger to kissing.

His lips felt like fire and I couldn't pull away, I just wanted more of his sweet mouth.

Although, meanwhile Dean's hand had found my belt buckle again, it rested there for some time as our groins collided a few times.

The first time, Dean let out a sound I'd never heard before, from any person or animal, alike.

It was a mix between a cry and a moan, his throat catching the whine from leaving his mouth, the moan completely involuntary.

I could only chuckle. He'd definitely never done this with another guy before. And that somehow made this all a bit more fun.

However, he was no virgin, his hand quickly finding courage and undoing my belt.

The oxygen caught inside my throat, and I exhaled heavily through my nose, Dean smiled against my lips and pulled away just for a second to look at me.

The devilish fuck wanted to watch my face as his hand crept inside my pants, brushing over my cock and I had to try so hard just to keep myself from moaning, from begging.

"Thing is," Dean panted, his eyes that were previously glued to my own, shot downward, looked to his hand where his fingers took hold of me, grabbed my hardening cock without mercy.

I winced and could only move closer, get closer and be closer to Dean.

"I think I really like you, Cas." Dean whispered, looking up, and smiling, his cheeks flushed red from arousal and general sheepishness.

"I really like you too...Dean" I said. Of course I did. Maybe I hadn't let myself dwell on the idea…But the words couldn't have felt more right. If not incredibly terrifying and equal parts of fourth-grade-school kid lingo.

He smiled a bit wider as he noticed the heat I felt in my cheeks. I was blushing too. Fuck.

But as much as I wanted to let myself think about what we had both just said, I had a bit of a situation at the moment. Although Dean tried to hide his ecstatic face, there wasn't much room for hiding.

I brushed his cheek with my thumb, using the hand that currently held my weight against the wall.

He looked up at me and grinned, his fist twisting inside my slacks.

I groaned and leaned my head against his. I wanted to touch him, but both of my arms were preoccupied. Despite our position and how it would have looked to anyone on the outside, Dean was the one in control.

And that was magnificent.


End file.
